In Pieces
by A. K. Hunter
Summary: We're born breakable. Detective Kevin Ryan knows this; a wanderer named Alexis knows it, too. When life shatters us, we hold tight to what used to be, scraping for normalcy in a chaotic world. But sometimes you have to let go of those broken pieces to learn to be whole again. AU.
1. Chapter 1

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter One

* * *

Everyone grieves differently.

Gwen had shared that little gem at the funeral, when he'd admitted that he hadn't cried yet, couldn't cry yet, and had asked what was wrong with him that he couldn't cry for the woman he loved.

"There's nothing wrong with you. Don't compare your grief to anyone else's. It's yours and yours alone, and how you deal with it is your business."

Six days before Jenny had passed away, when, after almost a year of pasted-on smiles and ever-wilting hope, he'd broken down, begging to know how he was supposed to live the rest of his life without her, she'd offered him nothing but truth.

"Happiness will be there when you're ready for it. Take all the time you need."

Two years had come and gone since he'd buried his beautiful, kind, vibrant wife, and Kevin Ryan didn't feel any closer to being ready for happiness than he'd been in that horrifying moment when her heart had stopped beating.

Kevin took a long pull from the glass of beer in front of him. Dive bars weren't really his thing, but he didn't really know what else to do, where else to go.

It should have been Jenny's thirty-second birthday, and he'd punched a suspect who had been mouthing off during interrogation. The tears still hadn't come, but he'd grown accustomed to the hot grief that flared at inopportune times—he hated that side of himself. He hated the daily fight to keep his broken pieces together.

"I know today's difficult for you, but you can't assault suspects," Beckett had told him. "What can I do to help?"

"Everyone's moved on with their lives," he'd said, "and half the time I feel like I'm still in that hospital room. Why can't I get a handle on this?"

"Because it's not about control. Grief demands to be felt."

Kevin didn't have a response to that. Control was the only thing that had kept him together for the last two years. He wasn't about to give up the only thing that kept him sane, the only thing that allowed him to live a somewhat normal life.

"Take the rest of the day off. Tomorrow, too."

"But—" Time off was the opposite of what he needed. How was he supposed to fill all those empty hours?

"I can't have you on this case, and you need some time to get your head on straight."

He'd wandered around the city for a while, and then, like an oasis in the desert, the filthy establishment had appeared in front of him.

Kevin was careful to not drink beyond his limit. He had to stay in control of his faculties. It would be reckless to let loose when there were so many terrible things in the world that he couldn't control: murderers, the Knicks' losing streak, _cancer._

"This seat taken?"

"Nope." He took another drink, coming dangerously close to the bottom of his glass. He'd have to pace himself.

"Thanks," the soft feminine voice responded. "A Black Russian, please," she said to the bartender.

It belatedly occurred to Kevin that the woman beside him might want to talk, and when he glanced over at her, she seemed entirely absorbed in her cell phone. Her slim, graceful fingers, moved furiously over the touch screen. Her face was hidden by a curtain of red hair.

She didn't want to talk to him then. That was fine. He turned back to his beer.

An older man sandwiched himself between the redhead and Kevin. His elbow encroached upon Kevin's personal space as he leaned against the bar, grinning at the redhead. "Hey, gorgeous. You look a little lonely."

She didn't even acknowledge the man. The bartender set her drink in front of her, and after thanking him, she took a sip, still absorbed by her phone.

"That's a pretty strong drink for a little thing like you," the older man continued. "You sure you can handle it?"

Her head turned the slightest bit before she returned to her phone. "Does your wife know you're here?" she asked with disinterest.

"How did—" He shook himself. "I'm single."

She ignored him again. Kevin looked the man up and down from his limited perspective, wondering how the girl had known he was married.

His hand closed over her pale arm, and hackles raised on Kevin's neck.

"Hey, look at me when I talk to you," he said.

With a long-suffering sigh, the redhead turned to face the man, yanking her arm out of his grip. "Sorry, grandpa, but I don't waste time on pathetic old men looking to sow some expired oats. Why don't you take your lechery and Viagra to someone who's actually interested."

Kevin bit back a grin. His night had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

Embarrassment colored the man's features. "Fucking bitch," he muttered. "Someone should teach you manners."

"Who?" She snorted. "You clearly don't have any."

He invaded her personal space with a growl, and in an instant, Kevin grabbed the back of the man's jacket. "I think the lady would like you to leave her alone."

The man frowned, and Kevin's voice dropped to the tone he reserved for suspects and convicted criminals. "Step away. Now."

When the man finally relented, the girl wiggled her fingers at him. "Bye, grandpa."

The man stomped away, and Kevin's eyes shifted back to the redhead, seeing her clearly for the first time. He immediately understood why she'd gotten so much attention. Thick red hair cascaded over her shoulders, stopping at the waist of her dark green dress. Large blue eyed lined with smoky makeup glittered at him from her pale, flawless face. A small smile tugged at her ruby lips. "You didn't need to do that," she said. "I could have handled him."

Kevin shrugged. "A simple thank you would do."

"I'll do you one better." She caught the bartender's attention, bringing him over with a come hither gesture. "What's your poison?"

"I'm fine, thanks."

She looked him up and down. "You look like a Scotch kind of guy." She turned to the bartender. "Two Lagavulin. Neat."

Kevin was surprised by her choice. He did like Scotch, but it was well beyond what he was allowing himself at the moment. "No, thanks—"

"Come on, Mr. Hero," she said with a brilliant smile that warmed him from the inside out. "Let this damsel in distress buy you a drink."

He sighed. It was all too easy to give in to her request. "You sure you want to drink that after a Black Russian?"

"Do you show this much attention to all the ladies you meet in bars?"

"I, uh—" He didn't know how to answer that. Truthfully, she was the first woman he'd spoken to in a bar since before he and Jenny had gotten serious. That thought sobered him. "No, I don't."

If she noticed the change in his demeanor, she didn't mention it. "I must be special then, huh?"

Her warm presumptuousness brought a small smile back to his face. "I'd say so."

Their drinks were placed in front of them, and she held hers out to clink against his glass. "Cheers."

The warm concoction slid down his throat with ease, and he felt a little tension slip away.

"Blech." His companion's face scrunched up. "I keep waiting for the taste to grow on me, but it's still terrible. Glad to see you liked yours."

"I never caught your name," Kevin said.

"I never said it."

"I'm Kevin," he said, offering his hand.

The redhead took it with a small smile. "It's nice to meet you, Kevin. You can call me Sally."

A crease appeared between his eyebrows at her words. "Is that actually your name?"

"Maybe. Maybe not." She licked her lips, and his gaze was caught by the gesture.

A warm thrill trickled down his spine. "So... Sally, what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She snorted in response. "Why would you think I'm a nice girl?"

He looked her over, trying to find an answer to her question. She was beautiful, funny, free-spirited, even brave. Didn't those things make her nice? "You haven't given me a reason to think otherwise," he said quietly.

Something shifted in those large eyes, and she glanced down at her empty drink. If he hadn't been watching her so intently, he would have missed it completely. She recovered, another smile stretching across her face. It didn't look genuine. "Careful, Mr. Hero. You keep saying such nice things and you'll make me blush."

She caught the bartender's attention again. "You want another drink?"

He didn't. The Scotch was burning pleasantly in his belly, and there was a looseness in his shoulders that he hadn't felt in years. "Are you trying to get drunk?"

"Is that a problem?"

He nodded. "I like you sober."

She frowned. "I'm not exactly sober right now."

"Then you definitely don't need another drink." When the bartender finally made his way over, Kevin cut her off. "She'll have a water. And we'll be closing the tab for the night."

"You're kind of bossy," she said, running her fingertips over the back of his hand. The light touch sent pleasurable chills down his spine.

"Is that a problem?"

"Just surprising. I'm usually better at reading people."

He caught her hand in his, drawing circles on the inside of her wrist beneath the faux-pearl bracelet. Satisfaction filled him when he felt goosebumps raise on her skin. "And what kind of reading are you getting on me?"

She considered him again, her eyes suddenly intense as a soft smile pulled at her lips. She leaned close, and the scent of strawberries washed over him. Her voice was low and sultry. "Let's just say I like what I see."

Her hand wrapped around the back of his neck, holding him in place as her soft lips pressed against his. Kevin was frozen in place for a moment, and she sucked his bottom lip into her mouth, sinking her teeth into it, demanding his response. He grew hard against his jeans, his fingers twining in her hair as he kissed her back. His tongue caressed hers, and she moaned into the kiss.

Kevin jerked away from her embrace, shock and guilt spilling into his stomach. It was Jenny's birthday. What was he doing making out with some woman in a bar?

"What's the matter?"

"I just..." He didn't know how to explain himself. How he still mourned for Jenny. How his need for a strict routine and control was antithetical to kissing a beautiful woman in a bar. "I'm not that kind of guy."

"Who is she?" the redhead asked, and Kevin stopped.

"What are you talking about?"

"The woman who made you sad. Who is she?"

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but couldn't gather his words. "How do you know I'm sad?" He realized belatedly that he hadn't refuted her claim.

"Observation," she shrugged. "Look, why don't we get out of here? You look like you've had a lousy day. I've had a pretty bad one too. A bad month, really. We can help each other."

Kevin shook his head, that irrational, inconvenient anger boiling beneath the surface again. "Why the hell would I go anywhere with you? I don't even know your real name."

"Alexis," she breathed, not letting go of his hand. "My name is Alexis." Her thumb moved soothingly over his knuckles. Her large blue eyes weren't watching him with pity. Instead he saw genuine interest and something akin to need in those blue depths. She didn't look at him like he was broken—not like everyone else. Instead, she made him feel wanted, desired. Like he was special, like he was the one doing her a favor. Kevin realized that he wanted to keep it that way.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," Alexis nodded. "What do you want?"

"I want to forget."

She gave him a small smile. "That sounds good to me." She gestured to the bartender. "We're going to need to re-open that tab."

* * *

Kevin stayed with the redhead until last call. Despite his desire to forget about his pain, he hadn't drank much more. Just another couple of beers. Alexis was so captivating he hadn't really needed the alcohol to forget.

The girl was a fucking genius. Spurred by his interest, she'd talked his ear off about everything from current events to physiology to literature. He'd found out she'd lived in Paris, LA, and had recently settled in New York. Somehow they'd gotten to the topic of his Irish heritage, and she'd demanded that he teach her every single Irish word he knew. Kevin wished he knew more than a simple handful of words. She'd given him a beautiful gift: distraction. The least he could do was give her a few new vocabulary words. Her mind at work was one of the most fascinating things he'd ever seen.

She'd hit the bottle harder than he had, and with her model-thin frame, he thought for sure he'd be picking her up off the floor. She held it together well, and only rolled her eyes once when he'd pushed a second glass of water her way. She seemed to enjoy his attention.

"Álainn," he said.

Alexis repeated it, paying close attention to the lilt of his speech, but not quite matching it. "What's that mean?"

"Beautiful," he said with a grin.

Color danced across her pale cheekbones.

"Come on, lovebirds. It's closing time. Get out of my bar," the bartender said.

They glanced around, surprised to see they were the only patrons left. A little shock jolted his system when he realized it was four in the morning. "I haven't been out this late in years."

"You're showing your age," she winked. He'd felt uncomfortable when he'd found out she was only twenty-one. That discomfort eased as she continued talking and he realized that with a mind like hers, age was just a number. He had a feeling that she'd done a lot more with her twenty-one years than he had with his thirty.

Alexis slipped a coat on over her eye-catching dress as they walked out together. She swayed a little bit, and he gripped her elbow to keep her upright. "I told you not to drink so much," he admonished.

"I'm fine," she responded. "More tired than anything else." Still, she leaned on him as they walked out of the bar, and he didn't mind the soft weight of her body against his side.

They stood outside for a moment, neither one willing to admit that it was time to call it a night. She hadn't made another pass at him since the first time, and Kevin felt both relieved and disappointed by it.

"You sure you can get home okay?" he asked.

"I'm sure. The walk will wake me up."

"How far is it?"

She told him her address, and a frown pulled at his lips. That would be a long walk, and it wasn't exactly in a good part of town. His mouth made the decision before his mind did. "You can come home with me."

Her large eyes widened. "What?"

"It's not safe for you to be walking home this late. I'll take you home in the morning." The more he thought about it, the more sense it made.

"You don't need to worry about me. I can handle myself. You don't owe me anything."

"I know," he said hastily. "Just let me do this for you, okay?"

Her head cocked to the side, and she bit her lip. All of his attention focused on her delicious-looking mouth. She stepped a little closer, squeezing his hand. "I'm not ready to say goodbye, either."

Warmth washed over him, and he grinned at her confession and the way she'd called his bluff. "Come on, then."

The cab ride back to his place was quiet, but the silence was comfortable. Once they'd gotten situated in the cab, her fingers had entwined with his. He might have been worried if it didn't feel so right. The guilt and anxiety that he'd been able to call upon at any time in the last two years was mysteriously absent. What was happening to him?

He unlocked the door to his apartment, and it wasn't until Alexis had stepped inside that he realized what a potentially huge decision he'd made. She was the first woman he'd brought home since Jenny.

Alexis' eyes scanned over his apartment. "This is the cleanest bachelor pad I've ever seen."

The thought send a wave of sadness rushing through him. While his apartment had become rather masculine and utilitarian, he didn't think of it as a bachelor pad. It was still his and Jenny's home.

"What's the matter?" Alexis had noticed his somber expression. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head. He didn't know why, exactly, he didn't want to tell her the truth. Maybe he didn't want to see that same pity in her eyes that he'd seen on the faces of everyone else. Maybe the pain was too precious to share with someone he'd just met. Either way, he kept it close to his chest. "You didn't do anything wrong. It's just—you were right. I am sad."

He forced himself to look at her. She watched him with complete understanding, and her fingers entwined with his. "Do you still want to forget?"

"Is it wrong to want an escape?" he asked. Part of him felt like it _was_ wrong. Like allowing himself to stop thinking about Jenny was selfish.

Her hand glided up to his cheek, and he found himself leaning into the warmth and comfort her touch provided.

"You don't have to be strong all the time, Kevin," she said softly.

Again, he expected pity, and instead she'd shown him understanding and kindness. Gratitude didn't even begin to cover it.

"Do you have any idea how amazing you are?"

A small smile lit up her face. "Show me?"

His head dipped down, and his lips brushed over hers in the lightest, barely there caress. He grinned when her breathing sped up at the simple gesture. When they'd kissed earlier at the bar, it had been fueled by lust and alcohol. This was softer, and somehow more intimate.

She took his hand and led him over to the couch, and rather than sit beside him, she crawled into his lap. Her dress slid up her thighs as she straddled him, and he hardened at the heat that pressed into his lap from between her legs.

Her lips found his again, and his hands twined in her hair as he leisurely kissed her. Her nimble fingers found his tie, carefully unknotting it and tossing it over the back of the couch. The buttons of his dress shirt were next, but she was moving too fast for him. He wanted to savor her, to draw out every moment she spent in his arms. He hadn't felt so peaceful, so content, in far too long.

His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, squeezing just tight enough to get her full attention. Alexis immediately went pliant in his arms with a soft whimper. When he tipped her head back, his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, she opened for him, her tongue caressing his when it dipped between her parted lips. He reached a new high, drinking in the taste of her mouth and the sweet-strawberry scent that wrapped around him.

Her fingers found his shirt buttons again, and he didn't stop her. She only undid the top four, then attacked his throat with her lips and tongue. She rocked forward on his lap as she lay a line of kisses across his collarbone, and the friction caused little tendrils of pleasure to spark low in his belly. She nipped and sucked at his throat, her fingers undoing the rest of the buttons while he was distracted by the sensation of her mouth across his skin.

Cool air hit his chest and shoulders as she tugged his shirt off, and that slight chill gave him a brief moment of clarity.

"Alexis?"

She tore her attention away from his body, and he almost regretted interrupting her. Those large blue eyes were darkened by desire, but her gaze softened as she looked at him, a question in her eyes.

"I want to see you again," he blurted out.

"What?"

"I told you before—I'm not that kind of guy. I don't do one-night stands. And once tonight is over, well, I want to see you again."

"Oh."

Heat rushed into his face. He was making a fool of himself.

Her answering smile was surprisingly shy, and it set his heart on fire. "I'd like that."

Kevin claimed her mouth for another kiss. His time with Alexis didn't feel like the meaningless hookups he'd indulged in when he was younger, but he felt much more at ease knowing that this wouldn't necessarily be a one-time thing. He liked her, and she seemed to like him as well. He didn't want either one of them to feel used in the morning.

Alexis sucked on the tip of his tongue, and blood rushed southward. With a moan, he reached for the zipper of her dress. He slowly pulled it down until it settled against the middle of her back, and shock and desire rooted him in place as she climbed to her feet and pulled the zipper the rest of the way down. Her dress pooled on the floor around her feet, exposing every inch of her body that her lace panties didn't cover. God, she was almost too perfect. For a long moment, he did nothing but stare at her, his eyes drinking in the swell of her breasts and the trim of her waist. He took her hand, pulling her back into his lap.

"Gorgeous," he breathed.

A pretty blush spread over her cheekbones. His hand shook and his heart raced as he dragged his fingertips up her waist. He stopped under the curve of her breast, drawing teasing circles there.

Her head fell back with a moan, and he continued the teasing caress. He couldn't quite bring himself to cross that line.

Alexis' fingers entwined with his, and she slowly, gently brought his hand up to cup her breast. They both moaned as her hard nipple brushed against his palm. It was all the encouragement he needed.

He shifted his weight, pressing her into the couch. Her legs immediately wrapped around his hips, and he saw stars when her heat pressed against his erection, separated only by a few layers.

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then dipped his head down to take the hardened bud into his mouth. Alexis writhed beneath him, moaning at his touch.

She unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, freeing him from his confinement. His cock jerked when her small hand wrapped around it, her thumb spreading the precome that had gathered on his tip.

"Fuck," he moaned against her breast. He grabbed her hands, pinning them to her sides. "I am not going to last if you keep doing that." He was already worried that he wouldn't last long enough to bring her pleasure. Two years of celibacy had made him as eager as a teenage boy.

She grinned up at him, not the least bit repentant. "Should we take this into the bedroom?"

Discomfort hit him somewhere between his heart and his stomach, but he collected himself quickly, kissing her relentlessly until she whimpered beneath him. "I like you right where you are."

Kevin backed off of her long enough to remove the rest of his clothes, and then he redoubled his efforts, his mouth wrapping around her nipple as he stroked her sex over her lace panties.

"Kevin," she moaned, grinding herself against his hand. "Please."

His fingers hooked around the fabric, pulling them down her slim legs. He eased two fingers into her heat, groaning when he learned how wet she was.

A keen escaped her mouth, and Kevin sealed his lips over hers, the thrusting of his tongue moving in sync with his fingers. He could feel her walls tightening around him as her cries echoed in his ears. His thumb drew unforgiving circles on her clit, and his fingers crooked against that sweet spot inside her. She exploded around him with a cry, her walls clenching around his fingers as she rode out her orgasm. She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

When her body calmed, he pulled his fingers out of her soaking heat. His eyes locked with hers as he sucked her essence off of his fingers, and her eyes darkened with the erotic act.

She sat up, leaning forward to kiss him, but his hand pressed over her clavicle, his fingers brushing against the base of her throat. Animal satisfaction flashed through him when she yielded to the pressure, allowing him to push her back against the couch. His tongue caressed hers, and he rewarded her compliance by allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She moaned against his mouth, flying high on the pleasure he'd given her and the erotic tension between them.

"Please, Kevin," she whined.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked. He hadn't needed a condom in years, and he was pretty sure he didn't have any.

She nodded, grinding her hips against his length. "Please."

He draped her legs over his shoulders, his hands splaying over her ass as he lined himself up with her heat. He entered her slowly, groaning as her slick muscles caressed him, stretching to accommodate him. Alexis let out mewl of discomfort and satisfaction, and she shifted her hips, seeking both further stimulation and a release from the unyielding pressure. Kevin moaned when his hips finally lay flush against hers. He definitely wouldn't last long. Could he get one more out of her before he reached completion?

Her hips circled against his, wordlessly letting him know she was ready for more. He must have hit another sweet spot, because her walls tightened and she cried out. Interesting. Kevin pulled back just the slightest bit, then moved forward again. A moan ripped through his chest when another cry flew off her lips and her heat became even tighter. With small strokes, he rocked inside her, hitting that magic button over and over again until she screamed his name.

With a growl, he pulled almost all the way out before thrusting ruthlessly back in. Alexis moaned, arching her hips to meet his thrusts, repeating his name like her favorite prayer. Pressure tingled in his tailbone as he pounded into her, and her moans grew louder when she felt him swell and harden inside her.

"One more," he moaned. "Give me one more."

His fingers found her clit, rubbing circles and pinching it hard as he drove his final thrust home. Alexis' scream seemed to rise up from the depths of her soul, and her body clamped onto him, her muscles rippling around him. Stars burst in his eyes when he found his completion, his shout mingling with hers.

He peppered her neck with kisses as they came back down.

"Oh my god," she gasped.

He gathered her in his arms, awash in the endorphins and residual pleasure that rocked his system. "Yeah," he panted, unable to formulate a coherent thought.

"That was…"

"Mmhmm." He nuzzled at her neck, laying kisses against her sweat-slicked skin. She curled closer to him, and he pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to cover them. His fingers ran up and down her side.

Her eyes grew heavy, but she watched him with a small smile on her face. "I definitely misread you."

"Glad to exceed your expectations." He smirked. She yawned again, curling even closer to him. "Get some sleep."

"You're being bossy again."

"You like it."

Alexis didn't bother to argue. Her eyes closed, and soon enough her breathing evened out. Kevin watched her for a while, marveling at the way she'd stormed into his world, broke down his barriers, and charmed the pants off of him in a matter of hours. She definitely was something special.

His thumb glanced over her sharp hip bone, and he frowned just a bit. She was beyond gorgeous, but she looked like she could use a few good meals. He'd break out the bacon and pancakes in the morning.

He let his head rest on top of hers, and sleep soon claimed him.

Some hours later, as mid-morning light shined in through his windows, Kevin found himself alone on the couch. His clothes had been folded neatly and placed on the coffee table.

"Alexis?" he called.

Silence answered back, and regret dropped like rocks into the pit of his stomach.

She was gone.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, here's another one. I just can't seem to help myself. I hope you enjoyed it, because there's more to come! Please, please, please review!


	2. Chapter 2

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Two

* * *

Despite being told to take the day off, Kevin stepped off the elevator onto the homicide floor just before lunch, not a hair out of place or a single wrinkle in his three-piece suit.

"Hey," Javier said when Kevin met him at the murder board. "I thought you were taking today off?"

"You thought wrong," he said shortly, heading for his desk.

"Let me rephrase that: Beckett kicked you off the case and—"

"I know, Espo. I was there."

"So what are you doing here?"

"Paperwork," Kevin answered. "Until we catch a new case."

Kevin could feel his partner's eyes on him, but he resolutely ignored both Esposito and the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface of his composure. He couldn't sit at home. Not after what had happened yesterday. Not after Jenny's birthday and being hit with the most colossal disappointment he'd experienced in well over a year.

 _I want to see you again._

 _I'd like that._

Kevin irritably tugged at the buttons on his coat. What a fucking liar.

"Sure, bro." Javier said as Kevin took a seat at his desk and turned on his computer, going through the same comforting motions that had always started off his shifts at the precinct. "But you might want to fix your collar before you do anything else. Unless you want everyone in the bullpen to see that hickey."

He frowned, immediately tugging the collar of his shirt to cover the mark. Kevin had found some of Jenny's makeup tucked away in a bathroom drawer that he hadn't opened in years. The old concealer had covered the mark as he'd gotten ready that morning, but the process of using his dead wife's forgotten makeup to cover up the evidence of his one-night stand had filled him with self-loathing and anxiety. How could he have done that to Jenny? How could he have been so fucking stupid?

And judging by Esposito's smirk, his collar had rubbed most of the concealer off anyway. "Don't ask," Kevin warned.

"Why not?" Javi took a seat at his desk, right behind Kevin. "I'm happy for you, bro. Who's the lucky lady?"

"Nobody."

"So what happened then? You lose a fight with a vacuum?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Javi." Kevin inclined his head toward the paperwork, trying to force his brain to focus on his job instead of the hurricane of emotions inside him. She'd left him in the morning. He'd specifically told her, before anything had really happened, that he wanted to see her again, that he didn't do one-night stands. She'd left before he'd woken up anyway. She hadn't even left a number or a note. She hadn't even said goodbye. All he had to remember her by was the hickey on his neck and the faux-pearl bracelet that had fallen on the floor. It was like a sad rendition of Cinderella, except instead of happily ever after, he'd been left with a cheap, fake treasure. He couldn't think of a better metaphor for their night together.

Kevin didn't know how to deal with it—Alexis' betrayal. And it really did feel like a betrayal. She'd charmed him into believing that she was something special, that the connection they had amounted to more than lust and alcohol. He'd fallen asleep with her in his arms, content for the first time in years, excited at the prospect of not waking up alone, of making breakfast for two instead of one. Instead, he'd been left with an empty apartment and an empty feeling in his chest. Just like every other damn day.

And as pissed as he was at her for leaving, Kevin was even more furious with himself for falling for her act. He'd been drawn to her beauty, her charm, and, more than anything else, those fleeting glimpses of vulnerability. He'd really believed that she wanted him, valued him, needed him—that he could offer her more than just a good lay. He was such a fucking idiot.

Part of him wanted to track her down, to find her and demand to know why she'd left. He knew where she lived, roughly, though she hadn't told him her exact address. He didn't know her number. He didn't even know her last name. Kevin belatedly realized that Alexis had probably done that on purpose. She'd probably been planning to leave all along. And if that was the case, Kevin wouldn't force his company on her. He'd learned his lesson.

Kevin felt Javier's eyes on his back, and he braced himself for his partner's further questions. Javi was stubborn, just as stubborn as Kevin himself. He wouldn't give up on the topic just because Kevin was being cagey.

Beckett chose that moment to walk into the bullpen, frustration pinching at her features, and she stopped in her tracks when she saw Kevin at his desk. "I told you to take the day off, Ryan."

"I need to work." Kevin braced himself for another argument. Maybe he should have just stayed away. He didn't want to sit at home and stew in his own misery, but bickering with his partners all day wasn't any better.

Surprisingly, Beckett sighed in resignation. The case he'd been kicked off of must have tired her out. "Fine. You know I can't let you back on that case—"

"I'll just do paperwork then."

"—but I just got a call from Detective Slaughter. A member of the Odessa syndicate was murdered last night. He wants us to consult."

"A Russian mobster ended up dead? That's not a mystery," Javier piped up. "One of his 'comrades' probably did him in."

"And Slaughter wants our help figuring out who that comrade is."

"You mean Slaughter wants us to come in and do things by the book—make a nice, tidy paper trail—so he can play rogue detective?" Kevin deadpanned.

"Think you two can handle it?"

"Obviously," Javier said," but do you need another set of hands on your case?"

Her frown deepened, and Kevin could see the irritation boiling beneath the surface of her expression. "Not today. Suspect's lawyer is tying everything up. Something about the police using excessive force." She glared at Kevin, and he sank back against his chair. He should have known that punching a suspect would cause trouble for more than just himself. Beckett looked at Esposito, continuing, "Help Slaughter with his case; if it's as open and shut as it sounds, you'll be done by the time I need you again."

"Got it."

"Beckett—" Kevin tried to apologize.

The brunette cut him off. "Ryan, don't make me regret letting you in on this one."

"I won't."

As Beckett continued her path to her desk, Javi muttered to Kevin, "Can't wait till Castle's book tour is over. Grumpy Beckett is bad news for everyone."

"Don't let her hear you say that, or you'll be stuck with paperwork for a year."

"Right. Because nobody's supposed to know what's going on there." Javier rolled his eyes. "Just like you and your mystery woman."

The laughter was wiped right off of Kevin's face. "Let's just focus on the case."

He picked up his phone and called Slaughter, who was more than willing to share the details of the case and specify exactly what parts he needed them to "consult" on. Gregor Ivanova, a known player in the Odessa syndicate, had been shot to death around eleven the night before. He was second-in-command to Dimitri Abramovich, the current leader of the Russian mafia. Slaughter's list of suspects was long and varied, but he wanted Kevin and Javier to help with a different aspect of the case. A perfect set of fingerprints had been found on the gun, and those fingerprints were a match to an individual already in the system, one Peter Isaiah Crespo.

"It's too perfect," Slaughter explained. "I looked into his file, and there's no way this kid could even get close to Ivanova. It's not him."

"So how did his fingerprints end up on the gun then?"

"Framed, obviously. I don't really care how. I just know Crespo isn't the murderer."

"What do you want us to do about it?" Kevin asked.

"I can't ignore solid evidence," Slaughter said, "but I'm not about to waste time going down that rabbit hole."

"You want Esposito and I to check out this lead so you won't have to." Kevin filled in the blanks pretty well. And he'd been right. Slaughter wanted them to step in and do the grunt work so he could follow his instincts without getting tagged by internal affairs for incomplete work. "You know we have better things to do than chase down a red herring for you."

"Yeah, "Slaughter conceded. "But I heard you're on Beckett's shit list right now, and once this is said and done I'll owe her a favor for borrowing her team. Help me help you, Ryan."

Kevin shook his head with a barely concealed growl. "Fine. We'll look into it."

"Knew I could count on you guys. Let me know what you find. I doubt I'll be surprised." The line went dead; Slaughter was done with the formalities. Kevin sighed and turned back to Esposito. "Remember when you were a rookie and you got stuck with all the shitty leads?"

"Yeah."

"Well, today we're taking a walk down memory lane."

* * *

If Peter Isaiah Crespo had an MO, it was underachieving. He'd been in juvie once for possession,and since becoming a legal adult, he'd gotten a couple DWIs and left a trail of unpaid debts behind him, though none of them were the kind that got you involved with a homicide case. More than once he'd been brought in for trespassing—squatting, really—in abandoned and unfinished properties. He was a twenty-three-year-old high school dropout who seemed to care only about getting high, and despite his many run-ins with the police, Crespo had never displayed volatile behavior. In the notes on each arrest, he was described as "agreeable."

Kevin could see why Slaughter didn't believe Crespo was capable of running with the Odessa crew. The kid didn't have enough motivation or aggression to be a real criminal.

"I got his address," Javier said, standing up and collecting his coat.

"How?"

"Last few months he's been making monthly rent, utility, and internet payments like clockwork. Looks like he's finally laying down some roots."

"With what money? He doesn't have a job."

His partner shrugged. "Money's been wired into the account each month, just enough to cover those bills."

Kevin frowned. Mysterious transactions weren't exactly uncommon in his line of work, but the money was usually the kind you'd kill for. Not just enough to cover hot showers, streaming Netflix, and a place to rest your head. "Kid's got someone looking out for him."

"Enabling him, you mean."

Kevin shrugged and grabbed his coat. "Let's go find out who this mysterious benefactor is."

* * *

As Javi searched for parking in a decidedly shady part of the city, he glanced at Kevin. "You're really not going to tell me what happened yesterday?"

Kevin had almost forgotten all about Alexis. He'd been focused on their new case, pathetic as it was, and had been granted a blissful reprieve from the questions and self-loathing. He didn't want to give up the temporary peace of mind. He sighed. "There's nothing worth telling you about."

"You went out and got a hickey from a woman for the first time since Jenny, and that's not worth talking about?"

Well, when he put it like that... "It was a mistake," Kevin conceded, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "And I'm not proud of it. If it's alright with you, I'd like to just forget and move on." He almost bit his tongue on the words. His "mistake" had been started by his last attempt to forget.

"Alright, alright. But you know you can come to me if you did want to talk about it, right?"

Instantly, Kevin's anger evaporated. Javier was just being a good partner, just looking out for him. "I know, Javi."

His partner put the car in park. "Good. You ready to bust this kid?"

"For being a chronic slacker? I'm sure he'll be really worried."

The two detectives entered the run-down apartment building, all stained carpet and squeaky hinges and paper-thin walls. Kevin flipped up his collar against the chill that the old, poorly insulated building failed to keep out. They climbed creaking stairs until they'd reached the correct floor and stopped in front of apartment number fifteen. As Esposito pounded on the door, announcing them as NYPD, something pricked at the back of Kevin's mind.

A young man with an unkempt mop of brown hair answered the door. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Are you Peter Crespo?" Kevin asked.

"I actually go by Pi—"

"Peter Crespo, you're under arrest for the murder of Gregor Ivanova," Javier said with an efficiency that came from years of experience, and snapped a pair of handcuffs on their suspect's wrists. Like Slaughter, they were more or less convinced that this kid wasn't capable of killing someone, but their part of the case was doing things by the book.

As Esposito read Pi his Miranda rights, the young man's eyes widened a fraction, but there was more confusion than fear. "I'm under arrest for murdering who?"

Kevin met his partner's eyes with a knowing expression before addressing Pi. "We need to take you down to the precinct for questioning."

"And we're going to search your apartment," Javier added.

Crespo's head tilted to the side. "Right now?"

"That's kind of how these things work," Kevin said, stepping into the apartment, immediately crinkling his nose at the dingy shoebox their suspect was living in. It was clean, more or less, but the aged building was a few steps up from dilapidated and clutter was everywhere—books stacked upon books, clothes piled in corners, a bunch of random gadgets and mechanical parts were spread out over the chipped, stained kitchen counter. Kevin sighed. It would be a bitch to get any kind of evidence from this place.

A hinge squeaked from behind the single closed door in the apartment, and Kevin glanced at Pi. "Is anyone else here with you?"

For the first time, their suspect clammed up. "Umm... I guess—sometimes—it's probably a cold breeze?" The kid was the shittiest liar he'd ever seen, and Kevin added that to his mental list of reasons why Crespo was not their guy. He pulled his gun from its holster and slowly approached the bathroom. He knocked twice and announced himself before pushing the door open. He'd expected it to be locked, but the doorknob was in the same shape as the rest of the apartment and gave way underneath his grip.

The cramped bathroom was empty. The window was open, but not wide enough for a person to squeeze through. Kevin glanced at the lone hiding place in the small space: the old, oversized tub. The shower curtain was drawn, and if he listened carefully, ignoring the racing of his own heart, Kevin could hear breathing from behind the curtain.

He yanked the shower curtain to the side, adrenaline running high, and his breath was kicked out of him. He'd been expecting, what? A criminal with a gun. A Russian mobster who'd conveniently stopped by to add some logic to their baffling lead. What he didn't expect was to see his dream girl in the flesh, long red hair and shocked blue eyes. She'd traded the skintight dress for worn jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and her heavy makeup for a black eye that sure as shit hadn't been there when they'd fallen asleep together the night before.

"Alexis?" he gaped. He shook his head. He had to be hallucinating, right? The world _had_ started spinning around him.

Alexis pressed herself against the edge of the tub, cradling a small knapsack against her chest. Her eyes kept cutting over to his thigh, and Kevin noticed the tiny syringe sticking out of his leg. His tongue was heavy, heavy as his ten-ton limbs. His knees buckled.

The traitorous redhead caught him around the waist before his face smashed into the porcelain tub. She eased the gun out of his hand and flicked on the safety before guiding him to the floor.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she whispered, slipping something soft underneath his head.

He tried to speak again, tried to evade her gentle grasp, but his movements amounted to little more than jerky twitches and grunts. A sick blanket had smothered his senses, and he fought to focus on those anxious blue eyes. She still smelled like strawberries. Her words slipped through the fog like pieces of a long-forgotten puzzle. "Okay… sleep… sorry."

Kevin's eyes rolled back into his head, and he let the darkness pull him under.

* * *

Alexis jumped off the lowest rung on the fire escape and broke into a sprint, dodging between pedestrians, rushing down alleys, not stopping until several city blocks separated her and the cop on her bathroom floor. Heart still pounding, air tearing in and out of her chest, Alexis ducked into the city library, her best and favorite hiding spot. The stacks offered privacy, multiple escape routes, and warmth through the cold New York winter. It was her sanctuary.

Alexis found her usual spot, tucked away in the old reference section where nobody but the rare librarian ever ventured. She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her shaking knees. Her mind flashed back to a perfect recreation of the scene in her tiny bathroom: Pi's confused voice from the front room when he'd been made, footsteps stomping closer, the shower curtain being pulled to the side, animal instinct making her lash out at her attacker once the curtain no longer protected him, and the utter shock that rolled down her spine when her eyes landed on Kevin Ryan, his gun trained directly on her.

The spell had been broken when her name had slipped off his lips in disbelief—a cold, unflinching reminder that a night in his arms didn't mean they knew anything about each other. She couldn't stop herself from breaking his fall. The drug would knock him on his ass, but it wouldn't cause any long-term damage. A blunt force trauma, like his head slamming against the tub, would be a different story altogether. She'd slipped a ragged towel under his head, desperate to offer some small comfort, unable to pull herself from his side until he'd lost consciousness. The fury and betrayal in his eyes had haunted her every step.

It was a damn shame that the best lay she'd had in years had turned out to be a cop. She'd really liked him, too. If she concentrated, she could almost recall the sensation of his hands moving across her body. She could almost feel the constant buzzing of her mind quieting in his all-consuming possession.

 _I want to see you again._

That night and the morning after, Alexis had wanted nothing more than to stay, to see him again, to bask in the way he made her feel. She'd teased him for being bossy, but she loved the attention, the feeling of being taken care of. Before she'd met Kevin that night, Alexis could count on one hand the number of times someone had offered her any kind of care, and nothing short of self-preservation had made her leave when she'd woken up in his arms.

She'd pulled away from his warm embrace, intent on a quick trip the restroom and a quicker return to the man still asleep on the couch. Alexis had ducked into his kitchen for a glass of water, and that was where she'd found his badge. In a neat stack on the counter, she'd seen mail addressed to Detective Kevin Ryan. Reality kicked her in the stomach, and fear had frozen every ounce of warm affection in her body. She had to get out. She had to get away. She had to save herself before he realized who— _what_ —she was.

Leaving Kevin was harder than she'd expected. Most of her one-night affairs ended some hours before sunrise; it was mutually understood that she'd be gone by the time her bed mate was ready to start his day. Some of them simply kicked her out after they'd gotten what they wanted. Kevin was different. He cared. He wanted to see her again. Alexis had slipped her clothes on, allowing herself the small luxury of watching him sleep while she prepared to walk away. She'd etched the peaceful look on his face into her memory, and had kissed his cheek.

"Bye, Kevin," she'd whispered softly enough to not wake him. "Thank you."

As Alexis left his apartment and started the cold walk back to her life and all its cruel realities, she had told herself that it was for the best. That sticking around would only end one way. It was better to have that one night, perfect as it was, than ask for more and ruin everything along the way.

Alexis forced herself to her feet, letting her hair hang over her face to hide the bruise as she walked to the public bathroom. She splashed some warm water on her face, her mind running through variables.

It turned out that karma was a real bitch, because Kevin had still found out the truth. The closest thing she had to a home was probably being gutted for evidence, and her only friend was in police custody—unwelcome variables in the shitstorm that had already ravaged her life.

 _I want to see you again._

Alexis gripped the edges of the sink, trying futilely to push all thoughts of the detective from her mind. Because one thing was certain: if he ever did see her again, she'd end up behind bars.

* * *

Author's Note: And the plot thickens! Thanks so much for your patience with this update, and double thanks to everyone who followed, favorited, or reviewed. I hope you're enjoying this story so far, and I'd love to know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Three

* * *

Kevin came back to the world with an overwhelming urge to vomit. He tried to lift his head, and the world pitched and spun. He shook his head, trying to quell the nausea churning his stomach, and the world tilted completely on its side for one bile-inducing moment.

"Wow, there," he heard a familiar voice say. Javi. "Here, have some water."

He wasn't sure he could keep it down, but his dry, cracked tongue begged for moisture. A straw was placed in front of his lips and Kevin greedily drank. Each gulp soothed the desert in his mouth and throat. His partner pulled the straw away after only a few pulls. "Slow down, bro. You've already puked on me once today. I don't need an encore."

Kevin tried to respond, but the words got caught on his too-thick tongue and his drug-tumbled brain struggled to push through the haze. His directives were simple: drink, stop, drink more, stop again. It felt like ages that Kevin sipped from that same cup of water, taking several short breaks along the way. By the time air pulled through the bottom of the straw, his brain was clearer, and his stomach no longer seemed to want to escape from his body.

"What happened?" Kevin asked, his voice somehow thick and hoarse at the same time. He glanced around the room, surprised to find himself in a hospital. An IV was steadily feeding fluid into his body through the back of his hand.

Javier shrugged. "Some perp roofied you at Crespo's apartment. I found you out cold on the bathroom floor. Do you know what happened?"

The memories slammed into Kevin like a ton of bricks. An empty bathroom with a drawn shower curtain. A needle sticking out of his thigh. A terrified, battered redhead.

Alexis.

Kevin shot upright in his hospital bed, immediately regretting the movement as he fell hard against his bed rail.

"Hey, calm down—"

"She drugged me, Javi. It was her."

"Who?"

Bitterness seeped into the wounds made by the redhead's betrayal. He'd poured his heart out, had asked her to stay, and she'd bailed. Then, when they'd met in the worst of circumstances, she'd drugged him and bailed again. Bitterness twisted into anger, stinging against the festering hurt in his chest. "Alexis. The woman I met last night. She was the one hiding in the bathroom, and when I found her she drugged me."

Kevin had never been so furious in all his life, and he held tight to that anger. Anger had been his go-to response for over two years, and it hadn't failed him yet. "Javi, we have to find her."

His partner nodded, looking grim. "We will. First, you need to get rehydrated so they'll let you go home, and then I'll need you to tell me everything you know. We can lean on Crespo for answers, too. We'll find her, Kev."

Javier offered another cup of water, and Kevin accepted it thankfully, his mind already flipping through variables, methodically replaying the encounter with Alexis and looking for useful information. Something heavy pressed against his chest as he recalled the way the black-purple mark hugged her eye, her bright blue iris standing out all the clearer against the broken blood vessels.

 _She huddled back against the tub, terror and panic written across her face—_

Kevin shook his head again. No. No, he wouldn't feel sorry for her. She was a criminal, not a victim. Certainly not a damsel in distress. She'd lied to him. She'd drugged him. He was going to find her, and when he did, he would make sure she got what she deserved.

* * *

Putting pressure on Crespo, or Pi as he called himself, wasn't yielding many answers.

"Tell me what you know about Gregor Ivanova," Kevin's harsh tone was just short of a bark. He'd been discharged late in the evening and had been told to go home and rest before returning to work, and Javi made sure he followed the doctor's orders. Javi hadn't learned much from interrogating their newest suspect, and Crespo had spent the night in holding.

Kevin had woken in the morning with a bitch of a headache and no answers. He was beyond frustrated and more determined than ever to find out what the hell was going on. They'd taken on Slaughter's case as a favor to Beckett, as a way to burn time while the roadblocks with their current case resolved. Instead he'd gotten the surprise of his life. Kevin didn't like surprises; he'd learned the hard way that they rarely ended positively. It didn't leave his mind for one second that Alexis was still out there, likely taking advantage of the head start that she'd gained by drugging him.

The curly-haired man glanced up at Kevin, then shrugged. "Never heard of him. I don't even know why I'm here."

"You're here because your fingerprints are a perfect match to the prints found on the gun was used to kill Ivanova. How'd that happen?" Javier asked.

"Coincidence, I guess."

"That's one hell of a coincidence," Javier remarked.

"I'm sure stranger things have happened."

"What about the girl?" Kevin asked. "Did she know Ivanova?"

"What girl?" Crespo's eyes cut to the side, and Kevin knew he was lying. About Alexis at the very least, maybe Ivanova, too.

Kevin hadn't really believed Alexis was involved in the murder. At the very least, he knew she had an alibi. While the Russian mobster was being murdered, Alexis had been fucking a naive homicide detective who'd been stupid enough to think good things were still possible for him. But Pi's cagey behavior made him wonder if the girl wasn't connected to their victim somehow. "The redhead I found in your bathtub. The one you tried to hide from us. Come on, Peter—"

"It's Pi."

"Whatever. Why were you trying to hide the fact that she was in your apartment?"

"I don't know who you're—"

"She had a nasty shiner. Who gave it to her? You?" Kevin's voice took on a mean edge. "You afraid of the cops finding out how you treat women?"

For the first time, there was something akin to anger in their suspect's eyes. "I would never hurt Lexi. Never! I tried to—" he cut himself off, his teeth snapping together with the force of his frustration.

The fervor behind Pi's words brought Kevin up short. The satisfaction that Pi was acknowledging Alexis paled when he considered the possibility that she was in some kind of relationship with this lowlife. Had Kevin helped her cheat? He shook the thought off. It didn't matter—not while a murderer was at large. "Then who did? Is she involved in this mess somehow?"

Pi went silent again.

"She was prepared to protect herself. You don't hide in the bathroom when someone comes to the door, a syringe of tranquilizers in hand, if you're not expecting to be threatened."

"We don't think it's a coincidence that your prints ended up on that gun, Pi," Javier said. "Just like it's not a coincidence that your friend was expecting trouble, that you lied to keep her out of it. What's going on here? What aren't you telling us?"

"Nothing," Pi lied; they all knew it was a lie. "There's nothing to tell. Can I call a lawyer now?"

Kevin briefly locked eyes with his partner before standing up and leaving the room. Something hot and sick twisted and tangled in his gut. Variables appeared in his mind like little blips on a radar: Ivanova, a literal smoking gun, a protective fool, and a remarkable, lying woman who was still at large. Javier could handle the processing and paperwork—Kevin was going to find the answers that Pi wouldn't give them.

* * *

Less than twenty four hours after entering the apartment for the first time, Kevin found himself standing in the middle of the small, cluttered studio, taking in everything from the worn card table shoved into the corner that seemed to serve as both a dining room table and a desk to the layers of plastic taped over the windows to keep out the cold. Unis and CSU had already been through the scene. They were searching for fingerprint matches and trying to gain access to a laptop they'd found in the corner of a closet. Besides three more drug-loaded syringes, there were no weapons or other paraphernalia in the apartment. Javi had told him he wouldn't find anything new in that shoebox Alexis and Pi had been living in, but Kevin wasn't looking for evidence in their murder case, necessarily. He was trying to piece together an entirely different mystery.

Kevin mindlessly picked up a couple of the worn books stacked on the card table: a French edition of _Brave New_ _World; Circuit Analysis for Dummies;_ a copy of _Raging Heat_ that had been borrowed from the New York Public Library. All of them but the library book had "AC" written in neat cursive inside the front cover. These were Alexis' books. It looked like her interests and knowledge base were as varied as they had seemed the night they'd met. She also read Castle's books, liked them, probably, if she went to the trouble to keep reading to the fourth book in the series. Kevin wondered what the "C" stood for and filed all the information away for later examination.

He crossed to the tiny kitchen, dismayed to find the cupboards empty save for chipped plates and cups, and lots of canned soup and Ramen. The fridge was in the same state, and Alexis' sharp bone structure flashed, unbidden, into his memory.

Kevin shook his head and moved on.

It was easy to find Pi's preferred space in the apartment. Men's clothes were scattered over the battered couch along with a couple graphic novels. Despite the fact that Crespo and Alexis had been living together, Kevin didn't see much integration of their belongings among the mess. The thought made him uncomfortably relieved.

He found Alexis' space in a walk-in-closet-sized bedroom next to the bathroom. More secondhand books were stacked along one wall—a fire hazard four feet high. Their titles and subjects varied so much it made Kevin's head spin. A small, metallic tree sat on the windowsill, looking crude in its design—all rough, metal seams, sharp points, and exposed bulbs. Kevin picked it up with gloved hands, turning it over to inspect the tiny bulbs and wires that had been set into the metal. His mind helpfully supplied the title of a welding book among the stacks. Had she made this? Again, he filed the information away and set it aside. He didn't have time to ponder the dichotomy that was Alexis—at least not now.

A thin yet lumpy twin-sized mattress was covered by blankets, and a cheap, plastic set of drawers held her few clothes. A thick composition book was half-tucked under her pillow, and rather than anything as mundane as a journal or a murder confession, it held drawings, equations, and blueprints. He flipped through the book, stopping at a dog-eared page that depicted the tree he'd just been holding. He looked around the tiny room once more and various descriptors popped into his mind: well read, a little messy, poor, highly intelligent, possibly genius. Nothing in her bedroom gave any indication that she might be involved in illegal activities. Who the hell was this woman?

Kevin's phone rang.

"Ryan," he answered.

"We just got the report back from CSU," Javier said. "If you're done digging around in that shoebox, I think you'll want to come check out what they found."

"I'll be right there."

Kevin moved toward the door, then stopped. For a reason he couldn't quite quantify, he grabbed a small throw blanket from Alexis' bed and wrapped it around the tree sculpture. He tucked the bundle under his arm as he left the apartment; the sweet scent of strawberries wafted up to him, haunting his every breath as he returned to the precinct.

* * *

The results were in: His dream girl was a criminal.

Kevin frowned as he sank into his chair, Alexis' background check in hand. Both sets of fingerprints found in the apartment had matched to records in the system. Pi's fingerprints pinged again, no surprise there. What had shaken Kevin deep in his bones was the file in front of him, Alexis' history typed neatly onto a page.

Javier stuck Alexis' mugshot up on the murder board. It was four years outdated, taken the day she'd been sent to juvie for pushing her foster father down a flight of stairs.

"According to California's state records, her name is Alexis Castle," Javier said. "Think there's a relation?"

Kevin shook his head at his partner's attempt to lighten the mood. "It's not that uncommon of a name. Plus, I think Castle would have told us—"

"Told you what?"

Kevin nodded at the writer, who had come into the bullpen with a container of coffees. "You don't have a redheaded, criminal niece, right?"

"I'm an only child," the writer answered, handing both of the detectives their coffees. "Why?"

"Our suspect's last name is Castle," Javi supplied, tapping on Alexis' picture. "I was just trying to get Kev to lighten up for sec."

"She's not a suspect," Kevin said. "She has an alibi, remember? Me." His eyes slid over to the writer, who had stepped close to examine the photo. A frown had etched itself into the lines of his face. "Don't tell me you know her?"

Castle stepped back and shook his head. "I don't." He cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. "So what's the story here?"

Kevin flipped through her file, forcing the words from his mouth. "Alexis Castle. Twenty-one. Looks like she grew up in the system—her mom gave her up for adoption and had the maternal records sealed. We'll need a court order to get access them. No father listed. Bounced between foster homes for most of her life until she was sent to juvie at seventeen for assaulting her foster father. She was released six months later when her foster father ended up in prison for man one..." a frown tugged at his mouth and that sick tangle of emotion clenched in his gut. "She was invited to testify, but never showed. She'd already dropped off the radar. And there's no record of her anywhere, until she ended up involved in this case." Kevin closed the file, his mind mulling over the wealth of new information as Javi filled Castle in on the case and Alexis' connection to their prime suspect.

"And here I thought Beckett was pawning me off on a dead-end case," Castle quipped.

Kevin stood up, stretching before addressing his partner. "Let's pull Pi out of holding again."

"You think really think you can convince him to confess?" Javier asked.

"No," Kevin said, "I think I can convince him to help his friend."

* * *

Interrogation had been silent for at least ten minutes. Kevin sat across from Pi, reading through evidence that he already knew by heart, letting silence wear on his suspect. Kevin was used to silence. Outside of work, his life had been wrapped in silence for a couple years now. Silent apartment. Silent nights in bed. Silent mornings alone. Before Jenny had gotten sick, silence made him uncomfortable. Now he wore it like a second skin.

"Am I just supposed to watch you read or something?" Pi asked.

Kevin didn't even spare a glance up at the other man. He flipped the page on his current reading material—the CSU report on Emma Carter's death. Emma had been Alexis' thirteen-year-old foster sister. A particularly gruesome photo from the crime scene made his stomach flip, not with disgust, but with grief.

"Why are you wasting my time?" Pi said. "You know I didn't kill Ivan. If you thought differently, I'd already be in jail, right?"

"Ivanova," the detective corrected. "And yes, if the evidence added up, you wouldn't be here right now."

"So what do you want?"

Kevin closed the file, finally making eye contact with the other man. "Why didn't she testify in Emma Carter's murder?" He watched Pi's mind struggle with the unexpected question.

"What?"

"Emma Carter. Alexis' foster sister. Why didn't Alexis testify in the trial? Her foster father could have been found guilty of murder with a convincing testimony of abuse, and instead he was convicted of manslaughter."

Pi's confusion was replaced with a grave expression. "You've done your homework."

"I'm trying to understand," Kevin explained. "I get it that you don't trust me. But I want to help. I know you're not our murderer, and I know Alexis isn't either. But I need you to help me prove that neither of you were involved."

Pi watched him for a long time before running his hands through his unkempt curls. He exhaled raggedly. "She was afraid. Emma wasn't the only one he hurt."

"Is that how you two met? In juvie?"

Pi nodded. "Been friends ever since." Something dark laced his tone. Bitterness? No. Regret. "Not that it's done her any good."

"Why's that?"

His suspect bit his lip. "Lexi's amazing. She's special. Anything she touches turns to gold, I swear. She can take bit of garbage and turn them into art.

"Like that tree?"

Surprised flashed in Pi's dark eyes. "Yeah. She made that out of a broken bicycle frame, among other things."

"How's it work?"

A fond smile tugged at his lips. "Leave it in the window, somewhere it can get plenty of light. It'll blow you away."

Kevin nodded, and Pi asked, "You really do want to help, don't you?"

"More than anything," Kevin said in earnest. "I— _we_ haven't found her yet. She's out there somewhere, and if she's truly in some kind of trouble..." He trailed off, letting Pi's imagination fill in the blanks.

"I'll tell you everything I know. But you have to keep up your end of the bargain."

"And what's that?"

"You have to keep her safe." The weight and anxiety behind the young man's words echoed in the back of Kevin's mind, finding friends in his own fears for the redhead's safety.

"I'll do everything in my power to help her."

"Promise me."

Kevin sighed, then nodded. "I promise."

* * *

Long after Beckett and Javi had gone home for the day, Kevin found himself at his desk, going over everything he'd found out about his dream girl turned nightmare. Her records from the foster system and juvie were in a neat pile on his desk; he'd read through them enough to have memorized entire passages. Four days had passed, and despite Pi giving up every scrap of information he had, the case was far from solved.

It turned out that Pi had more drive than any of them had given him credit for, and the young man had focused that drive on nursing an expensive cocaine addiction. In the years after he'd aged out of juvie, he'd gotten in deep, deep enough that he had no real chance of digging himself back out. His only credit was that he'd never been busted for it, but that was a small comfort when a dealer from the Odessa clan had started stalking him, demanding repayment. So he'd reached out to his one friend in the world: Alexis. She'd been wandering for a few years at that point, but she'd dropped everything to come to New York and help him. She hadn't had the money Pi needed to keep his kneecaps, but she had picked up a few new skills in the years since he'd seen her. Particularly data theft. She'd gone to the dealer's boss, Gregor Ivanova, and had bargained for Pi's future. His debts were erased, and in return she was hired on to steal information about or from other members of the syndicate. The money was terrible, the risk was great, and she'd done it anyway. All she had asked Pi to do in return was get clean.

 _Guilt-ridden tears had slipped down Pi's face as he recounted the tale. "There's nothing quite as sobering as your best friend giving up everything to save your sorry ass from your own terrible mistakes."_

 _"You know what this means," Kevin had said. "You lied about knowing him. Your prints were on the gun; you had motivation to kill him."_

 _"And bring this exact mess down on Lexi? Risk her life for some vendetta? I'd never do that."_

Kevin had believed him; he still believed him. The detective rubbed his eyes, his brain sluggishly moving over the cold hard facts.

Tori was still trying to decrypt Alexis' laptop in hopes of learning more about her work for Ivanova. The redhead clearly knew what she was doing, because it was taking forever to unlock. When Kevin put the puzzle pieces together in front of him, they told the picture of a victim more than a criminal, and anxiety twisted in his stomach every time he was reminded that Alexis was still MIA, god knows where, in the middle of a New York winter without the pathetic safety net she'd created for herself.

He stood up, heading to the break room for some coffee. He stopped in the doorway when he saw Castle examining the metal tree in the windowsill. Kevin had followed Pi's instructions and left the sculpture to soak up sunlight. His breath had been taken away the first time he saw the illuminated creation. The gentle light the tiny bulbs emitted softened the harsh, metallic angles, and the tree looked like it was blooming with softly lit flowers. It never ceased to amaze him.

Castle caught him staring. "I hear you're very conflicted these days."

Kevin shook off his reverence and walked to the coffee pot. "Thought you would have gone home with Beckett."

"You know about that, huh?"

"We all know about it."

The writer was silent for a moment, then continued, "You don't think she's guilty."

"I don't think she's innocent, either." Kevin turned to his friend, squaring his shoulders against the uncomfortable half-truth.

Castle touched the glowing sculpture. "Maybe she's committed a crime, but that doesn't make her like the others."

"Why do you care?" Kevin asked. The writer had been oddly subdued about the case. He still offered up odd theories and had a joke ready when the tension grew to be too much, but Kevin had caught the writer examining Alexis' four-year-outdated photo on the murder board more than once, as if the photo would offer up new information with each perusal.

"She reminds me of someone I used to know," Castle hedged.

"Who?"

"Me. If I can help in any way, let me know."

Kevin was surprised by the writer's interest. He quickly shook his head. "I haven't heard a peep from her."

"You're worried."

He was terrified. "It's just…" Kevin motioned to the glowing tree. "Cold, hard, criminals don't make things like this. They don't indenture themselves to terrible people to help a friend.

"When I met her, I knew she was different, but she never once struck me as dangerous. Maybe a little wild, a little reckless, but never threatening. If she knew I was a cop, she could have stolen from me, she could have taken advantage when my guard was down. She didn't. She folded my clothes neatly before she left. She kept me from smacking my head when she drugged me, and," he paused, "she apologized. Repeatedly. I know I'm supposed to stay neutral about this, to look at the facts, but the facts are useless and my instincts—"

"Your instincts are telling you she needs help," Castle finished for him.

"She's out there alone and I have no way of finding her. I've tried everything—"

"Maybe she'll find you." Castle patted his arm and sighed, "I'm going home. Think about what I said. I'd like to help—inside or outside the law. Just let me know what you need."

The implication that Kevin would work outside the rulebook didn't grate on him like it should have. Instead, he was grateful. The writer had resources Kevin could only dream of. Surely he could help.

"Thank you, Castle."

"Always."

* * *

Kevin yawned as he took the finals steps to his floor, following the same route his feet had carried him on for years. He'd be back at the precinct early in the morning, but for now, his mind and body desperately needed rest. His tired eyes landed on a huddled form next to his front door.

Police instincts kicked in as he approached the person warily, looking for possible threats. "Can I help you?"

No answer. Kevin stepped forward, taking in the overly large brown coat covering a gray hoodie. Long strands of red hair peeked out from beneath the hood. Recognition plowed into him, and he kneeled down.

"Alexis?"

He pushed the hood back, dismayed to find the bruising on her face had worsened. Her skin was flushed and clammy. He shook her shoulder. "Alexis."

She flinched, emitting a pathetic whimper, her eyes slowly opening, watching him with a glazed expression.

"What happened to you?" he asked.

She mumbled something he couldn't quite understand, her head bowing forward again.

"Alexis?" He touched her face, almost pulling his hand away from the burning fever under her skin.

"Sorry, Kev," she slurred.

"Come on, let's get you inside." He lifted her under her arms, and what little color she had left drained from her face. He pulled his hand away, shocked to see her blood marring his hand.

"Shit." He hovered in indecision before picking her up in a fireman's lift and carrying her into his apartment. She groaned at the shift in her posture, then yelped when her back pressed against his couch. Her eyes rolled around without focus and her head tilted forward. He wrinkled his nose at the unwashed smell that drifted off of her.

"Alexis, can I take your coat off? I need to see what's wrong." His hands had started shaking. Something was wrong—terribly wrong. He hadn't seen a person so sick since—

"Sorry," she mumbled again. He cupped her face in his hands, anxiety rising at the heat emanating from her pale skin. She shuddered, and he felt goosebumps rise under his fingertips. Her wild eyes landed on him, tears slipping out as she stared directly at him, her gaze void of recognition. Then she glanced away again, and a sinking feeling pressed in on his chest as he realized that she wasn't with him mentally.

Panic pushed through his veins with each heartbeat, but he forced his movements to be gentle as he guided her arms out of the coat and slipped it from her shoulders. A large, black-red stain sank through the gray fabric over her right shoulder. Shit. She was really hurt.

"Can you lift your arms for me?"

Alexis didn't answer; she didn't even seem to hear him. Thinking quickly, he guided her down onto her stomach, helping her to stretch out across the couch. He had to run to the kitchen, and he didn't trust her to not tumble to the floor.

Once he was satisfied that she wouldn't fall, Kevin rushed to his kitchen and dug through the drawers for a pair of scissors. He hurried back to the living room and began cutting open the back of her hoodie and the tank top beneath it. He peeled away the stained fabric, for a moment so repulsed that he didn't acknowledge her shriek of pain.

A deep, severely infected laceration chased up the inside of her right shoulder blade, inches from her spine. The wound was an angry shade of red, and foul-smelling fluid wept from the edges. Long, red lines spanned outward from the laceration, crying out like a beacon from her corpse-colored skin.

"Alexis," he gasped, horrified.

The redhead cried bitterly, trying pathetically to crawl away, and he grasped the back of her neck loosely to keep her on his couch. Her weak body succumbed to his grip and she sank into the cushions, slurring broken apologies that shattered every ounce of anger and bitterness he'd been holding on to.

Helplessness smashed into him, so terribly familiar that it took his breath away. She was so sick… She'd been hurt so badly.

Just as quickly as his anger at Alexis was destroyed, protectiveness took its place. He stroked a limp, greasy strand of hair from her tearstained face. "You're going to be okay." She had to be okay. There wasn't another option.

Kevin pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Castle, it's Ryan. I need your help."

* * *

Author's Note: Man, that felt like a dense chapter. Glad Alexis is back with Kev though. :) I hope you all enjoyed the update. Please review!


	4. Chapter 4

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Four

* * *

He couldn't believe he was doing this, but he didn't know what else to do.

"They're taking an awfully long time." Castle shifted uncomfortably in the hard plastic seat.

Kevin and the writer had been sitting in the waiting area of a Manhattan surgical center. Kevin glanced at the double doors that stood between him and their suspect-turned-victim. She'd been so out of her mind with sickness and panic that she'd had to be sedated. Kevin ran his hand through his hair, remembering how she'd refused to let ago of him, how her body had sort of slumped forward once she'd given in to the drugs. Though the circumstances could not be more different, the scene was terribly familiar. How many times had he watched Jenny get wheeled away on a gurney?

"She was pretty messed up," Kevin responded. Understatement of the century. Alexis' frightened, glazed eyes and corpse-colored skin were branded into his memory.

The writer had been true to his word. Once Kevin had called and explained the situation, Castle had pulled some strings with a surgeon he knew to get Alexis the treatment she needed without identifying her as the suspect in an ongoing murder investigation.

"What do you think happened?"

Kevin considered the bruises scattered across her face, the sharp angles of her cheekbones cutting against her skin, the deep wound that poisoned her entire body. She was starving, beaten, and unclean. A stray left to fend for itself. "I think her involvement with Ivanova caught up to her."

He heard the writer sigh. Kevin understood the sentiment. They were way off the straight and narrow, basically rogue, helping a criminal who had fallen victim to other criminals.

Clipped footsteps echoed down the hallway, and the double doors opened to reveal the surgeon. Both men stood as she approached.

"Laura," Castle began.

"It's Dr. Howard," she corrected him, a sharp frown on her face. Kevin briefly wondered what kind of history the two might have.

"How is she?" Kevin asked.

"Stable. For what little good it will do."

The detective's heart stopped. "Excuse me?"

The surgeon glanced between the men then jerked her head back in the direction she'd just come from. "I'll take you to see her."

The two men followed behind the doctor into a procedure room and Dr. Howard closed the door behind them. Alexis was curled up on her side, her back to the group. The hospital gown exposed fresh bandages over her shoulder, and several IV lines were connected to each of her hands. Kevin moved closer, needing to see her face. The bruises were no less glaring against her pale skin, but she seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

"It was a nasty cut," the doctor explained. "I had to open the wound up to fully clean it, but it should heal nicely if it's taken care of."

"So what's the problem then?" Castle asked.

"She's homeless." The doctor's tone was blunt, and she frowned at the lack of understanding on both men's faces. "The cut wasn't a clean slice. It was serrated, torn, like she got caught on a nail or a bit of chain link. It's the kind of cut that most people take care of at home with antibiotic cream and Band-Aids. Maybe they'd get a few stitches. The fact that you brought this girl to me half-starved with a septic cut tells me one thing: she's not going to get the care she needs." She turned to Castle. "I don't know what this is all about, and I don't want to know. But this girl is better off in the hospital. Fixing her up and letting her go won't help. She's not going to survive on the streets like this."

"What does she need?" Kevin's heart felt like it was going to break out of his chest, and he reached for Alexis' hand without thinking. He couldn't let anything happen to her. Duty be damned; protocol be damned. The image of the redhead dead in some alley from a treatable injury made fury and panic boil in his veins. It wasn't fucking acceptable.

"Antibiotics. Dressing changes. A warm, safe place to recover. Three square meals."

"I'll take care of her. Whatever she needs."

"Ryan—" Rick began.

"I can't just leave her, Castle."

"I wasn't asking you to. But Beckett and Esposito—"

"Can't find out," Kevin answered. He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. "I'll figure it out later. Right now I just want to get her home."

The doctor nodded. "I'll write you instructions for her care moving forward. And you," she directed to Castle, "where should I send my bill?"

"Ah, let's just take care of it now. Don't want a paper trail, do we?"

Kevin moved closer to Alexis, gently tucking a strand of hair away from her face. She looked tiny on that procedure table, helpless. Her skin seemed impossibly pale, but her chest rose and fell evenly. If they'd done things properly, Alexis would have been taken to the hospital, treated for her injuries, and transferred to a medical facility within the county jail. Out of his reach, where he couldn't help her, couldn't save her, where the system would fail her.

"You're going to be okay," he murmured. "I promise."

* * *

The alarm on his phone blared, and Kevin jerked awake, groping at the device to quiet the offending noise. His feet came to rest on the floor and and he rubbed his face, preparing himself for another long day. He was beyond tired, but he didn't have the option of slowing. His day off was too far away to bring him much comfort.

He pushed himself to his feet, blearily heading toward the shower. Under the refreshing spray, the world became less daunting. He could do this, he reminded himself. He could handle the fatigue. He'd done it all before, after all, and with a much more grim prognosis. A task list formed in his brain: get ready for work, make breakfast for Alexis, keep digging into Ivanova's background.

The redhead had been staying with him for three days, and she'd spent almost all of her time sleeping. He'd wake her in the morning before he left from work and shovel breakfast down her throat along with her pain medication and antibiotics, and when he would get home at the end of a long day, he'd feed her dinner, help her shower and change her bandages, and then put her to bed with another dose of medication. If her wound wasn't healing so nicely, just like Dr. Howard had said it would, Kevin would be worried about the lethargy she was displaying.

Kevin dressed and headed to the kitchen to start on Alexis' breakfast. She was burrowed up in her blankets on the couch, just like every morning thus far. He cooked up some scrambled eggs and grabbed a high-calorie meal replacement shake from the fridge. Deja vu settled over him as he placed Alexis' breakfast on the coffee table next to her medications. He remembered mornings very much like this one: the fatigue, the half-liquid meals, the pill bottles, the obsession with things everyone else in the damn world took for granted. Kevin's only comfort among a sea of eerie similarities was the fact that this time his patient would get better. This time he'd be able to save her.

"Alexis." He gently tugged her blankets down to her waist and squeezed her hand a few times. "It's breakfast time." His hand rubbed up and down her exposed arm. "Wake up." He frowned. She felt warm. Had her fever come back? After a few more requests for her to wake up, her large eyes opened, glassy and blue as they stared back at him.

"It's time to eat breakfast."

She blinked sleepily a few times before nodding, and Kevin helped her sit up. He rested the tray in her lap and wrapped her fingers around the fork. "Eat." He'd found she responded better to orders than requests. It was less work to mechanically do has he asked than it was to engage in a dialogue, apparently. He'd tried countless time to engage her, and each time she stared back at him with heavy lids, barely able to stay upright. While Kevin didn't doubt that she was lucid—the way she followed his requests was proof of that—he imagined she was simply too tired to do anything more than the bare necessities.

Alexis slowly scraped the fork across the plate, mechanically feeding herself with shaking hands. As she focused on her breakfast, he glided the thermometer across her forehead. 99.3. Barely low grade. Kevin made a mental note to check it again at dinnertime. He tried not to despair when she set the fork back down, the plate still half-full. Her eyes were getting heavy again.

"Hey." He squeezed her hand. "You're not finished." Though he didn't really have time for it, he'd argue if needed. She needed to get back to a healthy weight for her body to heal itself. The sweatpants he'd gotten her hung loose on her frame, barely staying on her hips no matter how tight he cinched them.

She just turned her head away, leaning back against the couch.

He grabbed the fork with a sigh. "Open your mouth." He hated feeding her. Nothing made him feel more powerless than being responsible for someone else's life necessities because they were too sick to be capable. She was good patient, though, and she didn't fight him. He set the empty plate aside and grabbed the shake, bringing the straw to her lips. "Drink up. Slowly."

She followed his order, her warm hand resting over his as he held the cup for her. His phone buzzed, and after making sure she wouldn't spill her breakfast, he let her hold the can.

"Hey, Espo."

"I was digging into your girl's background a little bit and I've got a couple places she might be. I'm on my way to your place."

Shit. "I'll meet you outside."

"See you soon."

Kevin ended the call with a sigh. Javi called Alexis his girl, but if he knew the truth, he wouldn't be so inclined to joke. Kevin couldn't keep her hidden away forever, not while she was entrenched in a murder investigation, not while there were so many questions to which he was desperate to learn the answers. One look at the young woman in front of him silenced the nagging voice in the back of his head. She was too fragile for questioning.

Gentle heat pressed against his fingers, and Alexis' hand weakly squeezed his own. She watched him with half-lidded eyes. "Thank you."

The anxiety in his chest momentarily softened, and something sharper took its place. They were the first two words she'd said to him since the night he'd found her on his doorstep, spoken with the same weak tone she'd used in her crazed apologies. For a moment, Kevin was struck by the gratitude in her tired eyes, by her attempt to comfort him. He was reminded of the last time she'd comforted him. When she'd touched his face and told him he didn't have to be strong all the time. In that first night together, she'd seemed fearless, a dream girl in the flesh. Now she huddled in front of him, that perfectly made up face all yellowing bruises and hunger-edged cheekbones. He'd had an amazing night with her that was both sexually satisfying and emotionally intimate. At least, that was how it had felt to him. He'd seen her naked twice since then, and the clinical, totally sexless way that he'd washed her skin and hair drew a stark contrast to their erotic coupling.

He didn't know her. Not really. That much was obvious, made clear by the dichotomy in front of him. One side of her all bravado and sex appeal, the other so vulnerable, so terribly breakable. The real Alexis was somewhere in the middle, he suspected, tucked away with glowing sculptures, stacks of books, and a kind heart that had long ago stopped believing in the division of right and wrong.

He let his hand slide out from underneath hers as he reached for the pill bottles. "Here." He placed two tablets in her palm and gestured to the can in her hand. He couldn't accept her gratitude; he had no idea what to do with it. Especially when her invalid status was the only reason he wasn't interrogating her, demanding answers to the relentless questions that plagued him. How was she connected to Ivanova? Who, exactly, had hurt her? Why had she let Kevin believe that he was something special when she'd been planning to leave in the morning?

Something pained flashed in the depths of those glassy eyes, and she swallowed the pills down, handing him the can and easing her way back down on the couch without looking at him. It seemed their impasse would continue.

Kevin pulled the blankets up around her and stood up, quickly depositing the dirty dishes in the sink and tossing the can in the garbage. He grabbed his keys from the counter and left a glass of water on the coffee table, sparing one last glance at her. "I'll see you tonight."

"Be safe," she mumbled, her eyes closed, either from exhaustion or because she didn't want to look at him.

Kevin paused, taken aback by her response. "I will." He shook himself and left the apartment. Javi texted on his way down the elevator, and Kevin prepared himself for a day of working on Alexis' case. Hopefully he could pull Javi away from the manhunt long enough to get some actual work done. Kevin knew his partner might never forgive him for secretly caring for their suspect, but Kevin knew he was making the right choice. Unanswered questions and lingering bitterness aside, he would help Alexis as long as she needed it.

* * *

The world was heavy, too heavy to bear. It's insistent sensations—the heat that suffocated her body, the dissonant traffic outside, the comforting and familiar scent of her too-soft blanket—pressed in on her, grated against paper-thin skin and sent her drug-dulled neurons pinging in wrong directions. She had been lying in the same spot, floating in that half-life between sleeping and awake, for what felt like an eternity. It took years to get her ten-ton eyelids to lift, decades to keep them open for longer than a heartbeat.

By the time Alexis managed to lift her body up into a shaking, half-huddled sitting position, the daylight coming in through the windows was fading. She glanced around, recognizing her surroundings but unsure how she'd gotten there. There was an unrelenting ache in her bones and she felt weak as a newborn kitten.

Her eyes landed on a tepid glass of water. She greedily gulped it down, then replaced it on the table and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Memory echoed dimly in her mind.

 _I'll see you tonight._

Kevin. Kevin Ryan. Detective Kevin Ryan. If she had the energy to panic, she would have sprinted for the door but—

Images flitted in front of her eyes like slides on a projector. That's right, she _had_ run from him. She'd drugged him and had spent days in hiding.

Fresher, crueler memories made her flinch. Not that hiding had done her much good. She ended up beaten and starving with a painful, poisonous gouge in her back when she'd tried to run. And through that mess she'd gotten herself into, Kevin had been there. Hazy images of him holding a straw to her lips and feeding her, of peeling away her hospital gown and washing her hair and skin, of tucking her blankets around her each time he said good bye or good night.

Alexis glanced down at her gray sweatpants and blue tank top. She certainly hadn't come to his apartment in those clothes.

Something hot twisted in her stomach. What did he have to gain by taking care of her? Why would he go to the trouble in the first place? After all she'd done to him? With perfect clarity, she recalled the fury in his eyes when she'd drugged him. Alexis had little doubt that the detective hated her for that. So why keep her in his apartment, feed her, clothe her, monitor her temperature and treat her wound? Why not dump her at the hospital and leave her in police custody?

She looked down at the nest of blankets and pillows on the couch she'd been sleeping on, the same couch she and Kevin had slept on mere days before. It was all too easy to lose herself in the memory of his arms wrapped around her, his heart beating beneath her ear.

 _I want to see you again._

God, if only he'd known what that simple wish would turn into. She was back on his couch, but she had a feeling that if he could undo recent events so that she remained a stranger, he would. What man would want his one-night-stand to end up sick and broken in his custody? Who would sign up for that?

Alexis never would have believed that she'd carry so much guilt over disappointing a stranger. But maybe that was because Kevin had never exactly felt like a stranger. From that first interaction in the bar, Alexis had felt like she was reconnecting with an old friend. Perhaps that was why it had been so easy to talk to him, to tell him things, to share her real name, which she never, ever did when meeting guys in a bar.

She'd hurt him. That was obvious, from the look of shock and betrayal when he'd burst into her bathroom, to the way he now spoke to her, simple commands devoid of any warmth. The Kevin she'd met that night at the shitty bar had been cautious, too, but he'd eventually warmed up to her. The way he spoke to her, touched her, kissed her—there was a kindness there, almost a kind of reverence, like he really had believed she was special and he felt privileged to be gifted with her company. She missed it. She missed feeling like she was more than just a strange hybrid of genius, slut, and vagabond.

But now he knew exactly what she was, the trouble she'd gotten herself into, the people she associated with, and the embarrassing conditions in which she'd lived. Shame warred with guilt. What he must think of her.

Base urges forced her to stand up, and she leaned heavily against the wall on her way to the bathroom, fighting the spots that threatened to white out her vision. She couldn't remember ever being this weak, this sick, this broken.

She mechanically washed her hands, and her eyes landed on her reflection in the mirror, pale and gaunt with a nest of wild red hair. She gingerly touched a yellowing bruise around her eye, remembering all too clearly the cruel hands that had left the mark. A shudder ripped up her spine, and she splashed warm water on her face, determined to wash away the hollow-eyed woman in front of her. Her hand hovered over the toothbrushes next to the sink. There were two, red and blue in color. She chose the blue, and dug around the bathroom drawers with shaking hands for toothpaste. Her hands stopped on a makeup bag, but she pushed the discomfort and accompanying question aside. The company he kept wasn't her business.

After erasing the gritty taste from her mouth, she found a comb and attempted to tame her hair. Her arms grew tired from her grooming, and she leaned against the vanity to ease the shaking in her legs. Though she felt better from her simple tasks, she was still paler than she'd ever been and thin as a stray cat. Suddenly aware of a strange throb-turned-itch that burned across her scapula, she reached around her shoulder, her fingertips finding medical tape and bandages.

She shuddered again, and chills danced across her skin. She was cold all over, frozen as the late January air had been on her unprotected body. Memory took over, hazy images of running through the snow and filthy city slush, tripping over numb, clumsy feet, climbing underneath a hole in the battered fence, pain flaring up her back when a loose bit of chain link bit into her body.

 _You cannot run forever, myshka._

She jolted at the sound of heavy plastic bags smacking against a hard surface.

"I do care, Espo. Of course I care." She heard a familiar voice say. "Going home at a decent time doesn't mean I—"

She'd had an opportunity to run, and she'd let it slip through her fingers. Irrationally, she looked for something that could be used as a weapon, her deeply ingrained flight or fight instincts taking root.

"I have plans, okay? The dead ends will still be there in the morning."

Alexis dug through the medicine cabinet, and her fingers wrapped around a well-used shaving razor.

"Listen, I've gotta go. Do yourself a favor and get out of there, too. Lanie's been awfully cranky lately."

She eased herself out of the bathroom, exhaustion biting into every muscle as she surveyed her options.

"You too, brother. Bye."

The hallway would take her back to the kitchen and living room, where she could hear Kevin moving around. The bathroom was a dead end. Her eyes landed on a closed door. It had to be Kevin's bedroom. Maybe she could hide—

"Alexis?" he called, his voice getting closer.

She made it a few steps; her hand landed on the doorknob.

His voice cut through her like tissue paper. "What are you doing?"

She shrank back against the door, the razor held in a white-knuckle grip in front of her. His eyes took in her appearance, then stopped on the pathetic weapon in her hand. She watched his mouth twist into a frown, and he held out his hand. "Give it to me."

Alexis gripped it tighter, pressing herself back against the wall.

"Give me the razor, Alexis. Now."

She couldn't fight him. She knew she'd lose. And she didn't have the strength to run. She barely had enough strength to stand on both of her feet. Kevin seemed to have the same realization, because before she could even consider another plan, he'd crossed the space between them and gripped her wrist firmly enough to break her hold on the razor. It fell harmlessly to the floor, the blade separating from the handle on impact. Anxiety curdled her stomach at the sight.

"What exactly did you plan to do with that?" Kevin asked. He still hadn't let go of her wrist.

Alexis didn't answer, her gaze locked on the broken razor next to her cold, bare feet. The detective gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"Answer me." His voice was quiet, but firm. Something steely flashed in his baby blues and Alexis was reminded how angry she'd made him.

"I don't know," she whispered.

He frowned, and Alexis braced herself for pain, flinching when his hand slipped up her arm.

He sighed at her clear expression of fear and his grip on her chin loosened. His thumb stroked across her jaw line before he dropped his hand. "Don't do that again, okay?"

"Okay." She didn't know if she truly meant it, but trapped against the wall, his unrelenting gaze burning into her, she wasn't about to argue.

"Come on then." Kevin's fingers wrapped lightly around her bicep as he led her across the apartment and into the kitchen. He effortlessly lifted her onto a bar stool and walked around the kitchen island to unpack his groceries.

Alexis watched him move around the kitchen, mute with shock. He hadn't punished her. Hadn't hurt her, even though he was clearly still upset. She glanced through the doorway, where the edge of the couch was just visible.

"Stay here," Kevin said. "I can't cook and keep an eye on you if you're in another room."

Alexis didn't offer a response. Her rash actions had led to this, to Kevin treating her like she needed a babysitter. Adrenaline thrummed through her veins from their earlier confrontation, but she kept still, her head resting on folded arms as she watched him cook. He moved around the kitchen with confidence, pouring uncooked pasta into boiling water, cutting bunches of leafy vegetables and bright-colored peppers, stirring a thick white sauce while strips of chicken grilled in a neighboring pan. His badge was in its uniform place on the counter, next to his car keys, but his service weapon was still in its holster on his lower back. His sleeves had been rolled up and his tie and jacket set aside. Alexis was reminded how handsome the detective was, how attracted she'd been to his lean build and kind smile. Something like embarrassment fluttered in her stomach as she recalled her own haggard appearance and how different it was from the polished facade she'd put on when they'd first met.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

Alexis blushed deeper and shook her head. She wasn't about to give him ammunition, and she was fairly certain that he had less than zero interest in being intimate with her ever again.

Kevin seemed content to let her sit in silence, and the kitchen soon filled with delicious scents. He placed a bowl of salad in front of her with a fork. "I hope you like kale."

Alexis picked up the fork, her mind briefly considering how she might use it to improve her circumstances. Short of throwing it at the detective, she didn't have many options.

"You didn't strike me as the shy type," he said, his back to her as he turned over the strips of chicken.

Alexis picked at her nutrient-rich salad. "Anything I say will be used against me, won't it?"

He glanced at her, his eyebrows raised, but he shook his head. "Not necessarily." He began dishing the pasta into two big bowls. "Besides, you're not under arrest."

"Right." That was bullshit.

A bowl of chicken Alfredo appeared in front of her. "Eat up." He leaned against the opposite counter with his own bowl, digging into the food he'd made. It seemed he was done talking about her future convictions. Alexis couldn't understand it. Her mind raced through variables, possible explanations for the detective's behavior. She'd lied to him, assaulted him, had likely made his job very difficult, since he was harboring a fugitive and all. Why wouldn't he want to arrest her? Why wouldn't he punish her for everything she'd done to him?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, focusing on twirling pasta around her fork. "What do you have to gain by helping me?"

He chewed thoughtfully then asked, "Why did you come here when you got hurt?"

Anxiety shot through her belly, and she gripped her fork a little tighter. Her memories of that night were hazy at best, punctuated with pain and heavy sickness that had smothered her entire body. She'd never been so scared in her entire life. "It was the safest place I could think of."

Kevin nodded, like he'd suspected as much. "It still is." He nudged her bowl. "Eat. You're not going to get better if you don't gain some weight."

She mutely followed his instruction, avoiding his burdensome gaze as she focused on her meal. It didn't escape her that he hadn't answered her question, and unease tickled her spine. She was heavily indebted to him now, more so with each bite of food she consumed. Alexis had learned long ago that any gift given was simply a debt unpaid. The detective might act like he'd forgiven her trespasses, and he might be serious about nursing her back to health, but sooner or later his kindness would come with a price. If he were any other man, she'd know exactly how to repay him, and that unknown variable set her teeth on edge. She couldn't protect herself from what she didn't know.

Alexis finished her food, meekly whispering her thanks as Kevin took her used dishes.

He set a glass of juice and her medications in front of her. "As soon as you're done, I need to change your bandages."

The sweet liquid tasted bitter in her mouth as she mentally added a few more tallies to her debt and wondered how she'd ever dig herself out.

* * *

Author's Note: Um, hi guys! I'm so sorry this took so long to update. I've been working on this chapter for a few weeks now, adding and deleting and generally agonizing over it. I hope you like the new installment, and I'd love to know what you think. Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

In Pieces

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Five

* * *

Alexis couldn't stop thinking about his mouth.

She sat in her customary chair at the kitchen island, a long-forgotten book wide open in front of her. Watching Kevin Ryan cook was proving to be much more entertaining than her third time through _Great Expectations_. He moved fluidly through his kitchen, his multi-tasking punctuated by small bites of food he popped in his mouth as he cooked. He brought a spoonful of garlic-lemon sauce to his lips, sampling the concoction, and Alexis' mouth watered—but not in hunger. It had been exactly forty-seven days since she'd last tasted those soft lips, and though she knew she'd probably never taste them again, that little fact didn't keep her from wanting.

"Relax," he said suddenly, breaking the quiet of the evening. "Food'll be ready soon."

She blinked. "What?"

"You're staring me down like a starved animal. Makes me nervous."

Alexis blushed to the roots of her hair and locked her eyes on her book, mumbling a "sorry." Her eyes skipped over the pages, her heart racing in double time.

Days had turned to weeks in the safety of Kevin's apartment, and in that time she and Kevin had developed an odd but comfortable routine. Her mornings and afternoons were spent napping, reading, and, as her strength increased, doing small tasks around Kevin's apartment in an effort to feel useful. Kevin was home most evenings, cooking dinner for her each night, checking her bandages, talking with her. Once or twice he'd even invited her to watch television with him. It had been tense at first, sharing that space for him, living off of his charity and kindness. Her crimes were the elephant in the room, and past experiences told her not to let her guard down. Sooner or later, the well would run dry and she'd be at his mercy.

Still, it was difficult to not soften towards to detective. Setting aside the small fact that he'd saved her life and was keeping her safe while she recuperated, he was a good caretaker. He seemed to know instinctively how to pull her out of her shell, how to get her talking, even just a few words here and there.

In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Alexis had begun to forget how to hide from him and instead began to look forward to those hours spent in his company. It was a slice of domestic bliss that she'd never knew she wanted, and with each passing day her attraction to the detective grew. Memories of their night together had slipped into her dreams, and more than once she had caught herself staring at him, trying to determine the exact angle of his cheekbones, marveling his silly grin when they watched sitcoms, carefully unpicking the lines in his face and wondering what sequence of events had put them there.

Alexis did her best to hide her feelings, but she was clearly not doing a good enough job. It was bad enough that she harbored a crush on this cop-turned-unlikely-savior. No need to make a fool of herself over it. But judging by the smirk on Kevin's face and the pinkness of his cheekbones, it was too late for that. Her eyes glanced up from the edge of her book, and she watched him add a few more miscellaneous spices to the sauce before tasting it again. She wanted nothing more than to close the space between them and lick the remnants from his lips.

She shook her head. God, she was such an idiot. If she were smart, she'd leave while he was gone at work. She'd skip town and never look back. Of course, it wasn't that simple. It had never been that simple. Pi was still in police custody, as far as she knew. There was still likely a bounty on her head, placed there by one very pissed off Russian, and Kevin's apartment was still the safest place for her.

"Here." He slid a plate in front of her before filling his own plate and taking at seat at her left.

Alexis eyed her quinoa with skepticism, trying to deflect his attention from the redness of her face and to keep her own mind off of her darkening thoughts. "Aren't cops supposed to eat lots of junk food?" Must be how he stayed so fit. She hadn't seen him going to or from the gym in the time she'd stayed with him, but the way sleeves wrapped snugly around his biceps never ceased to make her swoon.

"It's good for you. Eat."

With a shrug, she took a bite. Delicious, savory flavors burst across her tongue, prompting a satisfied hum.

"Told you," he said with a smirk.

"Alright, Mr. Health Nut. I concede defeat."

"I'm not a health nut."

"When was the last time you ate a hamburger?"

He thought about it for a second, the humor slowly slipping from his expression. "A couple years, I guess."

"See?" She elbowed him gently, trying to prompt another smirk. She was definitely not just looking for an excuse to touch him. "Health. Nut."

His answering smile didn't make it anywhere near his eyes. "If you take good care of your body, it'll take good care of you." He paused before adding, "You're evidence of that."

Alexis paused with the spoon halfway to her mouth, suddenly self conscious. A few weeks of rest, antibiotics, and nutrient-rich meals had definitely made a difference. There was more color in her face and energy in her frame than she was used to, and her body had gone from starved to, well, healthy. She tried to remind herself of that every time she looked in the mirror and saw curves in places she wasn't accustomed to seeing them. "Right."

Heavy silence set in, and Alexis wondered what had prompted the change. The shift was happening more and more; one moment Kevin would be more or less happy, and then, like a light switch, she'd be the same, overburdened man she met in the bar. Despite living with the man, she still had no idea where that darkness came from. Kevin was just as cagey about his past as she was.

"It's not that hard," he continued when the silence dragged on too long. "Cooking this kind of stuff. I could teach you. I'm sure you'd pick it up quick."

"Maybe," she said noncommittally. She didn't see herself getting used to the quality of life Kevin had given her. She knew she wouldn't have it when everything was said and done. "I'm partial to Ramen, myself."

"Salt and cardboard."

She shrugged. "It's cheap, fills your belly… It's not _quinoa_ ," she smiled, "but it's good in a pinch."

His expression was flat as he pushed food around on his plate. "You find yourself in a pinch often?"

"I think you know the answer to that question."

He set down his spoon with a sigh. "About that…"

"I think I can fix your coffee maker," she said abruptly.

"What?"

"I mean, how does a New Yorker like yourself live without coffee in his own home? It's just silly."

"Alexis…"

She slid off the barstool, her empty plate in hand. "I just need a couple things. I can give you a list. Parts should be cheap. Cheaper than buying a new one."

His hand wrapped firmly around her bicep. "You can't keep running from this."

She let the heat of his hand sink into her skin. God, she wanted to touch him. She wanted to be something more than a weird freeloader for whom he felt inexplicably responsible. She wanted to be on equal ground, to deserve to want him.

"And I can't protect you forever," he continued.

This conversation had been hanging over her since she'd first woken up on his couch weeks before. Kevin had been respectful and careful to not push her; he'd been patient through her convalescence. But Alexis knew that as soon as he deemed her well enough, the other shoe would drop and her fantasy would be over. She was a criminal after all, and he was the detective whose job it was to catch her. Alexis intended to do everything in her power to avoid being caught, though on more than one occasion she wondered if it was too late.

She raised her eyes to his. "Can't? Or won't?"

Kevin's eyes narrowed, the line of his jaw tensing. "Won't."

His admission shouldn't have hurt so much. She was lucky to have been treated so kindly up to this point. Expecting anything more wasn't just stupid, it was selfish. "Are you going to arrest me now?"

He released her arm. "I don't want to arrest you. I want to help, but I can't help you if you don't cooperate," Kevin continued. "Please, Alexis, let me help you."

"I can't," she whispered.

"Can't or won't?"

The words lodged in her throat.

With a frustrated growl, Kevin stood up, using the few inches he had on her to loom over her. "What is it gonna take for you to trust me? I've taken care of you, I've let you into my home, I've put my job on the line to help you. Hell, I'm the only reason you're not already in jail or worse! After all that, do you really have nothing to say to me?"

Her mouth went dry in the face of his anger, and she started at the floor. "What would you like me to say?"

"The truth! For once, Alexis, I just want you to tell me the truth." Silence set in for a moment before he tried again. His voice softened, and he gently lifted her chin. His eyes were gentle, but determined, and Alexis found herself drowning in those blue depths. "Tell me something real."

The words slipped out before she could even think about stopping them. "I wish I'd never left that morning. And I can't stop wondering what would have happened if I'd stayed."

As soon as she saw her words settle on his shoulders, she knew she shouldn't have said them. They were far too true, far too powerful. Two sentences strong enough to rip her open. And much as she wanted to hide, to cover her face and avert her eyes and officially pretend that she had never said anything, she couldn't tear her eyes away from his expression.

Shock colored his features upon her initial confession. Then, something cooled in his demeanor. That heavy emotion in his blue gaze was replaced by the grim determination she'd become used to in her time with the detective. Her heart sank before he even opened his mouth to speak.

"Why would you bring that up now?" he asked flatly.

Her eyes came unglued, instead attaching themselves to her mismatched socks. "You asked for the truth."

"Not that kind."

"Next time you should be more specific." Her words sounded empty. Even to her own ears.

"Alexis, I'm being serious here. You need to tell me what's going on. You have to trust me to help you." He paused. "Don't you trust me? Don't you believe I have your best interest at heart?"

The silence was deafening, and each second seemed to last for an eternity. Still, Kevin never wavered. Never gave any sign of capitulation. He was digging his feet in for the long haul, seemingly prepared to weather her stubborn walls and tongue-tied silence.

Alexis lost track of how long they stood together in his kitchen, her heart pounding, stomach twisting, on the verge of losing the superfood dinner he'd made for her. Her pulse echoed in her ears, each beat begging her to say something, anything. The impasse couldn't last forever, and Kevin didn't look like he'd be the one to break first.

Finally, she licked her lips and said, "I know you're a good man."

"And?"

It wasn't good enough. Her evasiveness seemed to be reaching its inevitable end. She glanced up at him, her eyes catching on his lips. Hadn't she just been daydreaming about those lips? About him? Hadn't she just been comfortable teasing the foreboding man in front of her? How had they gotten to this place? And how had they managed it so soon?

The answer hit her hard, like a ton of bricks, right in her stomach. It was her. It was her fault. It was always her fault. In the running log of fuck-ups, she was the common denominator. Kevin was a good man; he deserves happiness and all sorts of shiny things.

She, on the other hand, was a criminal. And she hadn't been good for longer than she cared to remember. Her attraction to him was toxic. It would do nothing but make his life worse. It already had made his life worse, seeing as how his job was at risk for helping her. No, she wouldn't open those doors and let out all her demons. She wouldn't, couldn't do that to him. He deserved better. Better than her and all the baggage she carried with her. She'd face his anger again and again if it meant avoiding his disappointment in her.

Her voice softened. "And I understand if you have to arrest me now."

She could feel the weight of his angry gaze on her frame, and she only just managed to keep herself from flinching, from curling inward and bracing herself for pain. By now, she trusted Kevin not to physically harm her, but old habits were a bitch and his anger was almost a palpable thing.

"You're making a mistake." Each of his words sliced through her like a knife. She lifted her gaze just high enough to see his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

The words were heavy on her tongue, but she forced them forward. "And it's my mistake to make."

He moved in reply, and Alexis reflexively shut her eyes. Footsteps stomped away from her, punctuated by the dissonant clanking of car keys. The front door slammed, and when Alexis opened her eyes, she was alone.

* * *

Kevin remembered the last time he'd felt so angry and helpless. He remembered it clear as day, like it had only just happened. It had been an unusually cool and sunny day in late June, the sun bright and inviting from the hospital room windows.

Kevin had patiently sat next to his wife as she endured yet another round of chemo. They'd practically been joined at the hip in the days following Jenny's diagnosis, but tension filled the air between them. Earlier that day, while meeting with the oncologist, Jenny had asked to sign a DNR. Do not resuscitate. No extraordinary measures. She hadn't once brought it up with Kevin before bombarding him in front of their doctor.

"So you're just giving up?" he had asked. "Baby, what are you thinking?"

"If something were to happen—" she began.

"I'd take care of you," Kevin insisted.

"I don't want you to have to take care of me!"

Kevin remembered how all the fight had slipped out of her, the way she'd slumped against the chemo chair. "Kevin, I love you. You know I love you. And if I reach a point where I'm so sick that I'll never get better, well, I want it to be fast. I don't want to draw it out. I don't want you to spend weeks or months watching and waiting for me to die." When tears had begun to slip down his face at his wife's words, she had taken his hand, squeezing it with her own cold one. "You're taking such good care of me. Let me do this one thing for you."

Tears in full force, ugly heaving sobs threatening to break out of his ribcage, Kevin had kissed her cheek and walked out of the room. Anger and grief and terrible, lonely helplessness had rendered him inconsolable. He'd barely made it to the hospital's empty chapel before falling apart. He was beyond prayers, beyond bargaining, fully immersed in his anger.

He'd done everything right. For his entire life, Kevin had followed the rules, followed the guidelines for life that he'd always been taught. He was a good person, a nice person. Sure, he hadn't been to church in ten years, but he'd devoted his life to making the world a better, safer place. He'd given up nights and weekend and holidays to bring closure to grieving families. He'd put evil, ruthless criminals behind bars. And he'd done so with a smile on his face, with that optimism that had always come so naturally to him.

So why, after all the good that he'd done in his twenty-eight years, was he being punished? Why couldn't God or the universe or whoever was calling the shots just give him a pass? Just this once. Kevin had kicked the pew in front of him, pissed off that he and Jenny were being cheated out of everything they were supposed to have, everything they were supposed to be.

A little over two years later, Kevin Ryan stood in the hallway outside of his own apartment, trying to reign in the all-too-instinctive anger that crashed over him. He had really believed that Alexis would cooperate, that she'd wanted help, that she realized how dire her situation truly was. He'd thought that if he showed her that he was trustworthy, that he cared, she would open up and allow him to help her. He was wrong on all accounts.

And when he'd pushed for answers, she'd tried to distract him by bringing up their history. Christ. What did she even have to gain by saying those things? Did she really think so little of him that simple flattery would make him forget the reason she'd been sleeping on his couch for weeks?

He didn't know what his next move would be. Every bone in his body fought against the thought of turning her over to _actual_ police custody. He could talk casually about arresting her, but the thought of wrapping a set of cold, unforgiving cuffs around those pale wrists made him a little sick.

The truth was, they couldn't go on like this. He couldn't hide her forever; she couldn't keep running. The only way to end it was to solve the damn case he'd been brought in for in the first place. And while he and Javi and even Castle had managed to gather useful intel in the weeks since the half-dead redhead had shown up on his doorstep, Alexis was the linchpin. They couldn't close it without knowing what she refused to share.

He'd tried doing things the nice way, but it clearly wasn't going to work. Kevin needed answers, and to get what he so desperately needed, he'd have to break her.

He just didn't know how he'd live with himself when it was all over.

* * *

A/N: Not dead! :) I'm so sorry about the wait on this one, guys. Time has really gotten away from me of late. Here's to the next installment taking less than five months!

I hope you're all still reading and enjoying. Please review, if you feel so inclined. I always enjoy hearing your thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

In Pieces

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Six

* * *

Alexis had been alone in the apartment for hours. Or, at least, that was what it felt like. Her logical, realistic mind told her that it had likely been thirty, maybe forty, minutes since Kevin had stomped out. For the longest time, she'd been frozen in place, her mind processing his anger, the increasing direness of her situation. Slowly, she'd thrown off that rigor mortis and had started cleaning up the remnants of their dinner.

By the time the kitchen was spotless and Alexis was curled up on her couch bed with a brand-new Richard Castle book that Kevin had procured for her, she had to consider the possibility that Kevin wasn't coming back. At least, not alone. Maybe he'd be bringing in his fellow detectives the next time she saw him. Maybe he'd simply throw her out, let her deal with the mess she'd created. It was her own fault, wasn't it? She couldn't blame him for pursuing either of those courses.

Over and over again, Alexis assured herself she wasn't making a mistake. She hadn't exactly had any better options after she'd gotten hurt, but plenty of time had passed since she'd showed up sick as a stray animal on Kevin's doorstep. She could have moved on after the initial scare was over. Instead, she let a homicide detective she barely knew take charge of her life. The reprieve from the heavy burden of responsibility was nice, but sitting alone in his apartment, waiting for the axe to fall, wasn't so nice. And all for what? Anxiety curdled her stomach, and she took a deep breath to steady her shaking hands. Should she leave? Should she pack up and move on and leave him behind? Because God knows that whenever Kevin came back, he wouldn't have good news for her. She needed to run, her instincts told her. She needed to hide and keep a low profile and definitely skip town. Even though it meant leaving Pi behind.

But even as anxiety and that all-too-familiar fight or flight instinct kicked in, dread wrapped around every bone in her body and held her in place. Her mind jumped through survival tactics, her limited list of options, and possible outcomes, but still she didn't move from the couch. Kevin would be back soon. He'd be angry with her. He'd reached the end of his rope. She needed to leave. He wouldn't hurt her, but he sure as shit wouldn't enable her any more. She needed to get up, move on, keep running, stay alive. It was the mantra she'd used to survive foster home after foster home even before she even knew what the word "mantra" meant.

Still, Alexis pulled in a ragged breath and stayed put. She was so tired of running…

Keys clacked outside the front door seconds before it swung open, and Kevin stormed back in. If he had seemed angry before, now he looked even more deadly. That hot fury was tamed, twisted into some cold and unforgiving. His dark blue eyes were as unfeeling as she'd ever seen them, and the set of his jaw, the way his nostrils flared as he looked down at her, had an almost predatory quality. Her stomach clenched, and she swallowed back bile.

Maybe she had made a mistake after all. What did she really know about him anyway? He was a cop. Irish-American. He was a skilled lover. He kept a clean apartment. He was health obsessed. Her mind scrambled for clues and came up blank. Was that really all she knew about him?

He kept her locked in his gaze while her mind spun and danced around their present situation. His voice was low and glacial, sending a chill across her skin. "I'm going to question you now. You _will_ answer me."

"And if I don't?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I'll persuade you."

Her jaw dropped, and while her heart kicked up a few notches and her instincts screamed _run_ , Kevin took a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. She'd have to climb over him or the back of the couch to get any distance. There was no room for her to escape. No more hiding. He showed her a photo on his phone. "Do you recognize this man?"

Her eyes flicked down for half a second before returning to the threat in front of her. She did. It was her job to know who she was getting into business with, and the man in the photo in front of her had become well known to her.

Kevin watched her expectantly.

"I don't know," she said.

Kevin glared at her, and she could practically feel the anger vibrating off of him. And realization hit her. He was probably a good detective, but he couldn't do more than bully her. He wouldn't hurt her. And while that made him a good man, a good detective, it made him pale in comparison to the other threats she'd encountered in her life. A new plan began unraveling in her brain even as he leaned further into her space. His breath was hot on her face, but she was too focused on escape variables to worry much about it.

He thrust his phone further into her face, so her eyes had to refocus on the pixelated image that was mere inches away. "Do you know him or not?"

She shrugged. "Hard to say. He's got one of those familiar faces."

Kevin shook his head with a barely concealed snarl."Fine. You don't want to talk about it. We'll talk about something else—"

"The weather's a little cold for my liking," Alexis began with fake enthusiasm.

"Why did you assault Benjamin Rogers?"

The name elicited a reaction so visceral that her stomach cramped and sweat broke out on the back of her neck. "W-what does that have to do with anything?" she stammered.

Kevin's face showed no pity for her obvious distress. "I think it has everything to do with how you ended up here. I've read through your files, Alexis. Everything we could get our hands on. You were a good kid—perfect grades, if a bit shy and reclusive. Your foster parents, teachers, and social workers all have glowing recommendations of your skill and intelligence and kindness. And then, out of nowhere, you assaulted your foster father. Pushed him down a flight of stairs, resulting in a broken arm, a concussion, and several broken limbs," Kevin recited the events matter of factly, with no emotional inflection, but Alexis was trying to keep it together, to not visibly shake in front of him.

She licked her lips. "I—"

"What did he do to you?"

She reached for his cell phone, tapping it frantically to open the photo. "The man's name is Gregor Ivanova. He's close to Dimitri Abramovich, the leader of the Odessa syndicate. Gregor's his cousin or something."

Kevin paused, his eyes showing how shocked he was by her easy capitulation. Alexis held her breath, praying that he'd let go of the past and focus on the present. A little tension uncurled from his shoulders. "Do you know how Dimitri used him in the organization?"

Alexis almost sobbed with relief. "He was a street boss. Kept an eye on the cocaine dealers in the organization. Also used quite a bit, from what I understand. Guy's a junkie."

"Was a junkie," Kevin corrected. "Ivanova's dead."

"Overdose?"

"Double-tap to the chest."

Shock and a sense of dread curled down her spine. Shit shit shit double shit. No wonder Dimitri's guys were out for her blood. Alexis forced her face into a kind of disinterested frown, just disgusted enough to be an appropriate reaction, but not emotionally attached enough to show just how fucked she was. "And what does this have to do with me?"

"I was hoping you'd tell me," Kevin said. "We found a weapon with Pi's prints on it. We followed the trail to the apartment, where we detained him and you made your great escape. Only, Pi didn't have anything to do with this, did he? But you did. You worked with Ivanova before he was murdered."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come on, Alexis. Pi's already given you up. He told us about the deal you made."

"I've never met him before in my life."

"Why are you lying to me?" he asked.

"I'm not—" She dragged in a breath, looking for some kind of calming center. Back to the plan. Back to her escape. Back to goading the detective in front of her to get the fuck out of her face so she could have even one opportunity to get out. "Why are you so hell-bent on saving me?"

Kevin paused, clearly not expecting the change of subject, and Alexis plowed right on through. "You've got an unfair advantage, having access to my history like that. So let's level the playing field. What the hell is your damage that you'd risk your job to save some street-rat slut? Cause we both know where I'm headed, and it's not to some happily ever after where I've seen the error of my ways."

"You little—"

"This bullying thing, it's not going to work, Kevin. So why don't we skip to the part where you give your pitch about my salvageable future. You're here to plead with me on behalf of my best interests. You think I could be more than I am. You think I've still got my whole life ahead of me and it'd be a shame for me to waste it in jail. You think I'm smart and talented and have a lot to offer, and it's not my fault that I was dealt an unlucky hand. I just need a fresh start, and you can give it to me. How am I doing so far?"

He was shaking, his voice low, his hands curled into fists. "Sounds like you've got it all figured out."

Alexis nodded, though unease spilled into her stomach from the almost-bored expression on Kevin's face. She kept talking. As long she was talking and moving and resisting, she was proving that Kevin wasn't making progress, that he wouldn't make any progress, that he was better off sending her to jail. She'd had a hell of an easier time escaping once Kevin had already given up on her. "So why don't we skip to the part where you give me an ultimatum, I say no, and then you take me to jail."

"You make a compelling point."

She knew he wouldn't let her go so easily. Not after how hard he'd worked to catch her in the first place. "But?"

"But you were wrong from the start." Their faces were only inches apart. "You clearly don't give a fuck about your own best interests, so I don't see why I should. I know you could be more than a two-bit criminal, but, again, you've proven that you don't want to be anything more. Don't see the point in wasting time trying to help someone who won't help herself. And you don't have your whole life ahead of you, not really, especially not if you're going to keep acting like a fucking idiot. The Russians will have an inside man kill you before your first day in jail is over."

Alexis shrank back from his cruel words, and his fingers wrapped around her wrists, yanking her up against him. Kevin continued, his words low and menacing, his teeth and eyes flashing as he verbally tore her apart. "You might be good with this tech stuff, and maybe you really are a genius, but you've made some really fucking stupid decisions in the last few years, the stupidest being burning your bridge with me to act like a spoiled, petulant child. You don't deserve my help. You don't deserve a fresh start because you haven't done a single fucking thing to prove that you care about anyone or anything besides yourself."

He released her, and Alexis scrambled back against the cushions, as if putting distance between herself and the angry detective could protect her from the cruel reality of his words. Her bravado and confidence felt paper-thin. It didn't matter, she told herself. It didn't matter if he'd given up on her. Wasn't that what she'd wanted? She cleared her throat and affixed her best poker face. No need to let him see how much his words had ravaged her. "So, what? You're here to tell me you're giving up?" she asked. "You're sending me off to jail and these are your parting words?"

His smirk made a chill rip down her spine. "Oh, we're not done yet."

"Then what do you want?" she spat. She'd never felt more like a caged animal, and his clear amusement at her predicament made her hackles rise all the more.

"I just wanted to know if your apathy extends to Pi. You know, he's in protective custody right now. He spilled all of his secrets and then some to help us find you."

Alexis shook her head, a sense of dread setting in.

"He risked everything to tell us what he knew, but he figured it was worth it if we could help keep you safe. 'Lexi's special,' he told me. He believed all those things you were just scorning. He believes that you could have a better life, be more than you are now. And he was willing to stake his life on it.

"You clearly don't believe those things. You don't seem to have an ounce of self-preservation or ambition in your entire body. So my question is, if you won't cooperate to help yourself, will you cooperate to help him?"

Alexis felt like she was standing on thin ice, helplessly watching as cracks appeared all around her. "You said he's in protective custody. He's safe. He doesn't need my help."

A glint of triumph lit up in Kevin's eyes, and Alexis immediately knew she'd just walked right into his trap. It was the question he'd wanted her to ask. "Pi gave us everything he knew to keep you safe. He's useless to us now. And protective custody isn't cheap. The NYPD is using precious resources to keep him safe. Resources that are underfunded and overworked. We can't keep him safe forever."

"You wouldn't," she insisted, but the tone of hysteria was all too easy to pick out. She cleared her throat. "You wouldn't cut him loose. You know he'd end up dead. They'd kill him."

"Sooner or later, they'll kill him anyway. One mistake, one vulnerability. Maybe Pi decides to take some time away from his babysitters—he seems like the free-spirited type, and you can't keep people like that locked up for long— that's all it would take for that threat to become a reality. He said he loves you like a sister. Could you live with his death on your conscience like that?"

Alexis didn't say a word. An anxious, angry sort of rigor mortis had taken over her body. Her jaw was locked shut, and every line in her body spoke of tension. As helpless as he'd made her, telling her how worthless he thought she was and then casually dangling Pi's life in front of her, she couldn't give in. She wasn't even sure why anymore, except that defiance was the only thing holding her pieces together. If she gave in, she'd be a snitch. If she gave in, she'd help keep Pi safe. If she gave in, she was a good as telling Kevin that she cared if he didn't believe in her anymore. Each of his harsh words echoed in her brain, juxtaposed over the threat on Pi's life, and Alexis felt those walls drawing tighter around her, tiny fissures appearing with each coil.

With a sigh, Kevin showed her his phone again. "One call, and Pi's free to land on the Russian's radar. Hell, maybe we could use him as bait, since you won't help—" Kevin grunted as Alexis tackled him, reaching for the phone. They rolled off the coffee table, Kevin on top of her, and pain blurred her vision as her shoulder took the brunt of their combined weight.

It was stupid. It was so stupid, and somewhere in the back of her panicked mind, she knew that taking his phone wouldn't fix anything. Still, he'd used it to threaten Pi, the closest thing she had to family, and that threat had to be eliminated.

Only, she was no match for his strength. A lifetime of nutrition deficiency and minimal exercise hadn't prepared her body to fight the detective on top of her. The world spun around as Kevin flipped her over, pulling her arms tight behind her back. A small scream slipped through her lips at the awkward twist on her shoulder, and Kevin eased his grip to the point that she could breathe. Still, her wrists were held tight in his grip. There would be no escaping until he got what he wanted.

His breath washed over the shell of her ear. "Give it up, Alexis. I can do this all night."

"S-stop!" She jerked her body around beneath him, yanking her arms into impossible angles and sobbing both in fear and from the pain she was inflicting on herself. "I can't—"

She heard a dial tone somewhere above her. "Five seconds, Alexis. Make your choice."

"Kevin—"

"Four."

"No!" She bucked harder beneath him, flexing and jerking every muscle in her body to escape. Fire burned across her shoulder, white-hot pain that seared through skin, bone, and muscle. She shrieked in pain and grief and anger. Her hair stuck to her tear-stained face as she fought him.

"Three."

"S-stop…" she gasped.

 _"Two."_

"It's my fault! I was helping him!"

Despite her capitulation, Kevin's voice only became harsher. "Who were you helping?"

"I-Ivanova. Pi owed him money, and I've been stealing for Ivanova to pay off Pi's debt."

"Stealing what?" he barked.

"Information! Money! Whatever he wanted! He-he planned to take over the syndicate. He was gonna let Pi and me off the hook as soon as he was in charge. Dimitri must have found out. That's why Ivanova's dead." She took a deep breath, panic still boiling in her veins as she lay pinned to the floor. "I'm sorry. It's not Pi's fault. Please don't let them kill him. It's my fault. It's always been my fault. Please—" she pulled in another shuddering breath, and another. It was never enough. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She felt Kevin's weight lift, felt his hands release her bruised wrists, felt the reverberation in the hardwood as he walked away. She curled onto her side, cradling her arm against her chest, barely able to breathe through the fear and the pain radiating from her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt him."

Gentle hands guided her into a sitting position, and a warm, soft blanket wrapped around her. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt him. I promise," Kevin's voice was softer now, much more like what she was used to. He gently wiped her tear-stained face with a cool wash cloth, and it was evidence of how badly she'd been shaken by his threat that she leaned into the cool sensation. Kevin wrapped the blanket tighter around her shaking body and eased her into his arms, stroking her hair. "You're okay now. It's all over, Alexis. You don't have to run anymore. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

Disconnecting from the hurt and confusion in her mind, her body relaxed in his hold. Her eyes slammed shut, and she sobbed into his neck as residual anxiety seeped out of her. Still, he didn't waver. Kevin held her while the worst of it passed, comforting her in the best way he knew how.

"You're okay now. You're safe. Nobody is going to hurt you ever again."

* * *

Author's Note: Umm... is anybody still reading this? I sure hope so. If you are, stick with me. There's better times (and some Alexis/Rick bonding) on the horizon. Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

In Pieces

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Seven

* * *

Kevin Ryan was breaking all the rules. Rick stood back and watched him question yet another member of the Odessa syndicate about their involvement with Dimitri, using information that Alexis had given him, no doubt.

Rick would have been glad for the progress on the case, and the progress toward safety for the young redhead, if the whole thing hadn't left a slightly bitter taste in his mouth.

A few mornings earlier, when Rick had stepped onto the homicide floor, his customary coffees in hand, he'd been met with a haunted looking Irish detective. After weeks of the redhead evading him, it seemed he'd finally got the evidence he needed, but it had come at a cost. A hefty one, too, if his somber mood was any indication. Rick had been surprised to find Kevin showing up with new leads, which inevitably led to new evidence, but no new witness. Rick had hoped that after her convalescence, Alexis would stop hiding and turn herself in. Her cooperation would go far in a case like this; she'd have a better and brighter future ahead by becoming an asset to the NYPD.

Kevin stepped out of interrogation and into observation, emitting a tired sigh.

"Trouble in paradise?" Castle asked.

Kevin looked surprised to see the writer there. "Why aren't you following Beckett like a lost puppy?"

"She's busy with a court case. Besides, you look like you could use some help."

"Yeah…" Kevin trailed off, watching the thug in the room.

"Can I help?" Castle pressed.

"I don't know."

"You wanna talk about it?"

With a sigh, Kevin rubbed his face. "I can't protect her forever, can I?"

"It was never meant to be a long-term arrangement."

"We're on the right track, but none of this is going to mean a damn thing if she won't testify. If she doesn't face what she's done. But I can't be the one to make her." Kevin paused, as if unsure how much more to say. "She already looks at me different..."

That haunted look had never quite left the detective's face, and no matter how many times Rick asked what sequence of events had put it there, Ryan wouldn't confide. "Tell me how to help."

After a beat, Kevin turned to the writer. "You up for a field trip?"

And that was how, not thirty minutes later, Rick Castle found himself knocking on Kevin's door before sliding the key into the lock.

"Hello?" he called as he stepped inside the neat apartment. Silence answered back, so he stepped a little further. "Hello? Alexis?"

"You're Richard Castle."

Rick spun around his heart palpating to find the petite redhead behind him, a kitchen knife held down at her side. Her other arm was wrapped in a tight black sling.

"Um, yes. Call me Rick." He frowned, not sure which was more disconcerting, the large knife or the sling that he didn't remember being part of her treatment plan. "What happened to your arm?"

Alexis paused, frowned, and then deliberately looked him directly in the eyes. "Fell out of bed and tweaked my shoulder. It's fine."

Castle held her gaze. She wasn't telling the whole truth, but it didn't feel like a lie, entirely, either.

She set the knife on a nearby end table. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm sure Ryan told you my part in your being here."

"Yes. The good Samaritan with a big checkbook. Thanks for that."

"You're welcome." He shrugged, the back of his neck heating up. He hadn't come over for a thank you. "Anyway, I thought you might want a field trip. You've been cooped up here a while, right?" He looked around the neat apartment, noting the not-so-neat living room area that was haphazardly stacked with books, one of which was his latest best-seller, notes written on random slips of paper, and what looked like a bowl of ranch dressing with salad on the side. "Unless I'm interrupting your lunch? I'd forgotten about ranch being a food group."

His joke, though about as pathetic as they come, earned a small smile at the corner of the redhead's mouth. "It's the closest thing to junk food that Kev—" she caught herself, "that _Detective Ryan_ keeps in the house."

"Ah." He nodded, still standing awkwardly in the foyer. "How about pizza?"

Her head tipped to the side. "You want to get pizza?"

"I want to take you to eat pizza," he clarified. He could see the hunger in her eyes. While eating according to Kevin's preferences meant that she'd probably never been healthier, Castle couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the detective eat anything that wasn't center stage on some super-food-clean-eating-all-natural-gluten-free mega menu. Still, despite the clearly mouth-watering offer, Alexis looked confused.

"Why?" He watched her good arm cross protectively over her middle. "What do you want from me?"

Castle knew about as much as anyone else about the young redhead's upbringing, and while her behavior didn't surprise him, it did make him a bit sad. "Just your company. Come on, there's a pizza place around the corner. It won't take long."

"Umm… okay." She crossed over to the messy couch, pulling a jacket off of its back and slipping it over her shoulders. She paused at the threshold of the foyer. "I mean, Detective Ryan knows about this, right?"

"He's the one who suggested it," Rick clarified.

If anything, his response seemed to confuse her more, but she allowed herself to be led out of the apartment and into Rick's car. She was silent, observing every little thing on the journey to the pizzeria. Rick didn't push her, or try to get her to make conversation. He could understand why she'd feel somewhat agoraphobic after being attacked and taking refuge inside his friend's apartment for the last month. And it wasn't until they were seated a cozy corner booth with a clear view of the door, their orders placed for a large combination pizza with extra olives, that the redhead finally spoke.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" she asked, picking at the straw wrapper.

"Like what?"

"Like writing. Or chasing after your partner. Or literally anything besides what you're doing right now."

"Ryan's told you about me and Beckett?"

"He's got a big mouth." She smiled, then her expression dimmed a little bit, changing from affectionate to wistful.

"He can keep his mouth shut when it matters," Rick said kindly. There was clearly something going on between the detective and the girl—something heavy. Not surprising, considering their relationship was messier than a prime-time drama.

She crumpled the small wrapper in her good hand. "You didn't answer my question."

"Well, I'm getting the best pizza in the city with one of the most interesting people I've met in a long time, so, no, I don't have anything better to do."

The redhead scoffed. "I didn't realize 'interesting' was a synonym for 'delinquent.'"

"Potayto, potahto." Their pizza arrived, and he thanked the waiter before dishing up a heaping plate of the stuff for Alexis. "Besides, a person's track record is never the most interesting part. That's just the what. You want to know what really makes a good story?"

"What's that?" she asked, keeping her eyes on her plate while she awkwardly cut her pizza into bite-sized pieces with one good hand.

"The who; the why. It's not necessarily the actions that make a story interesting. It's the characters, their back stories and baggage and failures and triumphs—that's what makes a good story."

She didn't respond at first, either because she didn't know how to respond to his statement, or because she was too lost in the heavenly flavor of pizza. Finally, after carefully chewing and wiping her mouth with a napkin, she said, "Is that your sly way of trying to dig into _my_ back story?"

Castle barely held back the grin. He had to hand it to her, she was good. "Not sly enough, clearly."

"There's no story here, Rick," she said. "My baggage is growing up in the system. I don't have triumphs, and, well, if you know anything about my case, you've seen my failure list already."

"I'm sure it's not that simple."

"Actually, it is."

He shook his head. "There is nothing simple about your story. A vagabond hacker operating on the wrong side of the law to save her closest friend? Scoff all you want, but it's the story writers and Hollywood execs dream of."

Alexis grimaced. "No Hollywood, please."

"They'd take some liberties with your story, of course," Castle continued, cutting into his own pizza. "Give you a royal bloodline and a big inheritance or turn you into a delivery room mix-up with a family who's been waiting for you all along. Throw in a handsome hero to whisk you off your feet..."

The redhead snorted. "The only thing I've inherited is red hair and a penchant for making poor decisions. And as for the hero," she frowned, "why don't you ask Detective Ryan how that's going."

Something about Alexis' response took Castle off guard. "Not all of your mom's decisions were bad. Some might say it's noble for an unfit mother to give her child up for adoption."

Alexis shook her head. "There's nothing noble about losing custody of your kid the day she was born because you're too strung out on alcohol and diet pills to even care."

Rick felt his eyes widen. "You broke into your birth records."

"Government-funded tech is child's play to hack. No, there's no great back story there. My mom was just a B-list actress who slept around and left a mess everywhere she went. Sound familiar?" She smiled humorlessly.

"Did you meet her then? After you found out who she was?"

"She died when I was two. Car accident. She was drunk, of course," Alexis sighed. "I guess it's not all bad. I have some of her movies to remember her by. She did this great low-budget vampire flick. God, I've never laughed so much in my entire life."

"And your father?" Castle asked.

"In the wind," she shrugged. "If Meredith even knew who my father was, and based on the research I've done that would be a miracle in itself, she never added his name to the records. I don't know who or where he is."

"Meredith?"

Alexis nodded. "Yeah, Meredith Harper. You should watch her stuff sometime, when you're in the mood for a laugh. I'd recommend starting with 'Love Bites Softly.' It's a classic. And if you like that one she's also in this terrible musical called… Hey, are you okay?"

Castle couldn't form a response; his mind was too busy running through his mental Black Book and cross referencing against a twenty-two year old calendar. Meredith Harper. What kind of coincidence—

"Your phone's ringing," Alexis supplied helpfully.

"Um, right."

"Are you going to answer it?"

"Oh." He pulled the plastic device from his pocket. Ryan was calling. "Castle."

"How's it going?"

"Fine," he said shortly, then covered the receiver and turned to Alexis. "Hey, do you wanna ask them to box up the rest?"

"Sure." She sidled out of the booth and approached the counter, Castle watched from the booth, only half listening to Ryan's report on the other end.

"—okay?"

"Huh?" Castle asked thickly.

"Is she okay?" Ryan repeated. "Does she seem happy?"

"Happy as a clam." Alexis returned with the box, and Castle felt an anxious sort of over-stimulation, his mind working in triple time to solve a new mystery while trying to carry conversation with two different people. "Listen, Ryan, I've gotta go. Call me if something new comes up."

"But–"

"I'll have her home by curfew. Give Espo my love." Castle hung up the phone, quickly shoving it in his pocket. Alexis watched him from across the table.

"What did Detective Ryan want?"

"Just the usual mother hen bit. Something about making sure you eat your vegetables and wear a hat so you don't catch cold, you know how it goes."

Alexis laughed, and something about that gesture seemed familiar, like a ghost of memory, a recollection of an observation he'd never thought twice about. If Rick closed his eyes, he could picture another redhead twenty-odd years earlier whose laugh was almost identical. The vision made his stomach do funny things, and in a terrifying moment of possibility, Alexis' last name, which she clearly hadn't inherited from her mother, suddenly didn't seem so random.

"Are you sure you're alright? You look like you're gonna be sick."

"I'm good," he said automatically, shoving that train of thought away for another time. "How about ice cream?"

"Umm... Do you think that's a good idea?" Alexis asked skeptically.

"It's a great idea," he insisted. "Besides, you gotta binge on junk food while you can. Ryan's probably researching kale smoothies as we speak."

"Ice cream it is."

Castle held the door for her on their way out. "Does our mysterious heroine have a favorite flavor? Wait, let me guess. Rainbow sherbet?"

"Sounds fine to me. In any case, it's much easier to find than my actual favorite."

"Which is?"

That small smile tugged at her lips again. "Have you ever heard of potato chip fudge ice cream?"

His heart tripped over itself and collapsed into his stomach before he affixed a smile to his face. That was his favorite flavor, too. "I know just the place."

* * *

Author's Note: These two are just the best. Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I hope you enjoyed this fun little reunion. Please review! I'd love to know what you think.


	8. Chapter 8

In Pieces

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Eight

* * *

It had been a shitty day.

He'd started off banging his head against the wall on Alexis' case, and then they'd picked up another murder just before lunch. It was an open and shut case, so to speak. A Midtown man had murdered his wife in a fit of rage when she served him with divorce papers. The whole case had taken about eight hours to finish from body pickup to final paperwork.

Kevin knew he should feel glad, relieved, maybe even satisfied with how smoothly justice had been found for the murdered woman, but it rang hollow. She was still dead, and their four children were now parentless. And while Kevin was well within his job description to slap a pair of handcuffs on daddy dearest, there wasn't anything he could do for those kids. Sometimes justice wasn't nearly enough.

Now, well past a decent dinnertime, Kevin found himself stomping up the stairs to his apartment, hunger and helplessness churning inside of him. While the day's terrible case was behind him, he knew another challenge was waiting inside his apartment. Irritation lashed inside his stomach and Kevin jammed the key into the lock yanked his front door open.

Alexis sat on the floor in front of Jenny's favorite barn wood coffee table; a barrage of wires and tiny plastic pieces were scattered over its surface. She watched him warily, like she'd been caught in the act.

"Hi," she said softly.

Between her case and the more run-of-the-mill murders that plagued his desk, he'd been working overtime. He'd been working his ass off, exploring every avenue he could think of to make sure she was declared innocent and the people responsible for threatening her, for hurting her, ended up behind bars where they belonged. And while Kevin was doing that, while he was bending over backwards trying to help her, she'd been doing God knows what to keep herself occupied through the empty hours. He nodded to her, not trusting himself to speak.

It was no mystery that since their fight, things had been tense. She still talked to him, and she still stuck around, though every time he opened his front door there was a moment of fear that he'd find her gone again—just like their first night together. But instead of comfortable conversation, there was awkward silence. She didn't look at him the same since her confession, since he'd held her down on his living room floor and threatened her best friend. Honestly, he couldn't blame her for that. He wasn't sure he looked at himself the same way, either, and it was more than a little jarring to him that he hadn't really felt as much guilt as he'd expected after the fact. Yes, it hurt to look at her after, to see that sling cradling her arm for the first couple weeks, but having all the firsthand knowledge he'd been so desperate to receive had been sweet. Having leads and inside information that he could use to save her life… that was almost worth it. Until he found himself with heaps of information he couldn't justify. No evidence. No testimony.

He was back at square one, except instead of an unlikely friend his houseguest gave him a wide berth. He could read it in her voice, her face, her body language: Alexis was waiting for him to lose control again.

"There's a leftover meatball sub in the fridge if you're hungry," she tried again.

"Castle take you?" It sounded more like an accusation than anything else, and he immediately clenched his jaw, inwardly cringing at how pissy he sounded.

Alexis shifted a little bit, her finger fidgeting over the wires and odds and ends. "Yes."

Never in a million years had Kevin expected the redhead and writer to hit it off the way they had. After their first "field trip" Castle had made a point to come around several times a week and, in doing so, was spending less and less time at the precinct. If things hadn't been so tense between them, Kevin would have been glad to see Alexis making a new friend. As it was, the detective was only just holding himself back from asking Castle to give him a play-by-play of each of his meetings with Alexis. Surely the writer was learning more about her, more useful intel that could be used to help her, now that she was more tight-lipped than ever around Kevin.

Before that moment when he'd been pushed past reason, when he'd used physical force to get her to bend to his will, he hadn't realize how much trust she'd shown him, how open and vulnerable she'd allowed herself to become in his presence. Now the walls between them had never been higher, and he didn't see Alexis taking them down anytime soon.

"Um… do you need anything from the kitchen?" he asked to the silence. It was a weak excuse for an apology, and he knew it the moment the words left his lips.

"No, thank you."

He went to the kitchen, returning with said meatball sub and beer, tugging his tie loose as he settled into his armchair. In the back of his mind, he counted fat grams and carbs, but he knew he'd eat the offering regardless. He was starving, and between all the hours spent at work and walking on eggshells in his own apartment, Kevin didn't have time to cook those healthy, nutrient-rich meals of course, to grocery shop for ingredients. More and more, that greasy, convenient food was slipping into his diet. Instead of imagining viscous plaque lining his arteries, Kevin added another mental tally to his scoreboard. Alexis hadn't said a word of useful information since the night she'd screamed and cried on his hardwood floor, but everywhere Kevin looked, he was making concessions.

"Are you alright?"

The tentative voice brought him back, and Kevin realized that he'd been glaring at the sub on his plate. Rather than answer her, he took a long pull from the beer bottle.

His eyes raked over the wires and plastic and tiny metal pieces on the table. Was that a heating plate? Something about it nagged at the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Honestly something about watching her small, careful hands pick apart the electronic disaster on the previously neat coffee table grated at him. Kevin wasn't sure if it was the mess, or because she'd likely dismantled one of his belongings to create said mess. He tried to reign in his frustration. Alexis wasn't dirty. She cleaned up after herself at meals, never left a mess in the bathroom, and always kept herself and her clothes very clean. But when it came to her work, she was a walking clutter bug.

"What've you got there?" he asked, nodding his head to her project.

"It's a surprise."

He frowned. "For who?"

"Whom."

He sighed. " _Whom_?"

Her tireless hand stilled, and she glanced up at him. Heat spread over her cheekbones. "You."

"Huh?" He must not have heard her correctly.

"It's a surprise for you."

He felt his eyebrows lift. "Why?" he managed.

Alexis shrugged, returning to her task. "Why not?" He watched her closely, trying to figure out what had gotten into her and what exactly this surprise might be.

"It won't electrocute me, right?" He was only half joking.

She shook her head. "Not if I've done my job right."

That didn't offer him much comfort.

"Don't worry, Kevin. I'm sure you'll like it."

Silence settled in and he watched her shoulders hunch forward progressively, her fingers beginning to shake just a little bit as she withstood his scrutiny. She was waiting for something, expecting a reaction. Criticism, perhaps? He shook off the thought. He had more important things to deal with.

"Have you thought about what I asked you before?"

Her watched the muscles in her neck coil tighter, and she drew in a small breath before continuing with her task. "You'll have to be more specific."

Since he'd forced her confession to him, he'd kindly, patiently, and consistently asked the same question. She was bullshitting him. Stalling. Avoiding. He knew it, and, judging by the way her eyes were glued to the tabletop, _she_ knew he knew it. "Confessing," he drawled. "Coming forward. Your testimony could do a lot of good for your case."

Her fingers toyed with the wires. "I'm still thinking about it."

His felt his own posture begin to stiffen. He sighed, exasperated, "What can I do to help you make the right decision?"

Her tireless hands paused, and he only just heard her whispered response, "Give me time. Please."

Rather than acknowledge the ridiculous request—hadn't he given her plenty of time already?—Kevin grabbed the remote and turned on the Knicks game. He arranged his face into something resembling neutral interest, folding his arms tight over his chest as that old, familiar, _maddening_ sense of helpless washed over him. Alexis resumed her task, and the silence between them turned heavy, thick and suffocating.

Not for the first time, Kevin wondered why she stayed. Was it safety? A sense of indebtedness? Sure, she was off the grid in his apartment, but didn't she want to go back to her life? The sooner this case was over, the better. Maybe once Pi and Alexis were both acquitted, she'd be ready to move on. Prickly and closed off as she could be, she definitely seemed loyal.

Something inside him curled up in shame when he considered the cruel things he'd said to her and the lengths he'd gone to in order to ensure her cooperation. He'd torn down her defenses and brought her to tears on purpose. He wished he could unsee the bereft look on her face after he'd let loose his frustration. It was worth it, he reminded himself. She was better off having told him the truth. Now he could help her. He was helping her. He glanced over at her, all tense angles, and bit back a sigh. Maybe he wasn't guilt free after all.

He'd been successful in his quest to break her. But the thing of it was, he'd nearly been broken too. In that moment, right after he'd held her down on his floor and forced a confession out of her, when she'd seemed so lost and unsure of herself now that she had nothing left to fight for, he'd almost crumbled. His hardass persona had certainly fallen apart. He should have known he'd never be able to stay objective where she was concerned.

It was hard to reconcile this girl with the one he'd brought back to his apartment that night. The girl who looked through his brokenness and saw some redeemable thread of humanity. Her intelligence, wit, and kindness had charmed him into letting down the walls he'd been holding up for so long, and that girl was still there, under his skin and forever on his mind. Kevin had seen flashes of that girl since reality had crashed over them. The way she hummed to herself as she turned pages in her latest novel. The way she'd joked about his love for kale the first time she helped him unpack his groceries. The kind way she'd wished him good night when he went to bed, and the sleepy lilt to her voice when she greeted him in the morning. Even now, when she watched him like any moment he might lash out, she was hard at work on a surprise. For him. A thought occurred to him. Would she… could she stick around after the case was said and done? He kicked himself. Another stupid fucking thing to consider, because it wasn't like they were in a relationship. She didn't belong to him. They weren't even friends, really. He was just a guy she'd slept with once who also happened to be the detective on the murder investigation she was involved in. And if he was being honest with himself, the unflinching reality of her life was beginning to wear on him. Christ, real life was complicated.

The next couple hours were spent in that haze of silence, interrupted only by Kevin venturing to the fridge for beer. Sometime in the third quarter, he must have nodded off, because when he came to, blinking in disorientation, the television was off and a blanket was draped over him. His mind and bones protested the weight of his exhaustion, but he forced himself to sit up.

Soft sounds echoed from the kitchen, and the rich scent of coffee hit his nose. Even in that bleary half-wakefulness, he knew it was too late for coffee.

Kevin stumbled sleepily to the kitchen. "Baby, what are you—"

A redheaded young woman turned away from the counter, surprise and confusion in her eyes. She was standing in front of the coffee maker, which was brewing that aromatic black liquid... after more than two years of neglect.

"Kevin?"

Reality crashed over him. Grief and soul-sick helplessness mixed in a toxic cocktail. "What are you _doing_?" he spat.

Alexis took a step back, her thick socks soundless on the tile. "I—I fixed your coffee maker. You always have to buy coffee in the morning, but now you won't have to." She fastened on a weak smile, and held out a mug of steaming coffee. "This is just a test run. I was hoping to surprise you in the morning... Kevin?"

Kevin was already retreating to his bedroom. He slammed the door and sank onto the edge of his bed, his fingers combing through his hair as images poured in.

 _In a strange turn of events, Jenny had woken up first. She'd lured him from bed with the promise of omelets, telling him the percolator was broken when he'd begged for coffee._

 _She was so happy that morning—lively and strong. She'd finally gotten her energy back after the chemo._

 _It couldn't last. One moment he was examining the coffee maker, trying to figure out what had caused it to break, and the next moment the metallic tang of blood hit his nostrils. Blood ran in rivulets down her hand, across the cutting board, spilling onto the countertop._

 _Jenny just stared, watching that crimson liquid flow free from her veins. That's when Kevin knew something was wrong—something worse than accidentally cutting herself._

" _Kev," she'd whispered. "I can't feel it."_

 _He'd rushed over to her, wrapping her hand in a towel. "The cut?" he had asked._

" _My hand. I can't feel my hand."_

 _Shock and dread seeped into him as blood poured out of his wife. Kevin had rushed her to the hospital, calling her oncologist on the way, and Jenny had been taken in for a scan to confirm what they already knew: The cancer had spread to her brain._

 _He'd come home from the hospital alone, had wiped the blood that still stained the counter with layer after layer of bleach. The coffee maker, broken and empty, held an obsolete vigil through it all._

* * *

Alexis stared down the hallway at the closed bedroom door for approximately fourteen seconds, her mind shifting through the last several minutes. What had come over him?

He didn't like her—not since he'd found out who she really was. That much she knew. That much was obvious. Yet, he'd taken her in, given her a roof over her head, a warm couch, food. He'd been the one to protect her from the ghosts of her past. Alexis pressed her fingertips against her shoulder, where Dimitri's knife had slid through her skin like butter.

Alexis was so indebted to him it made her head spin to imagine clawing her way back out of it. And, once upon a time, with a little more kindness and a little less abrasion, she might have willingly confessed to him. She might have even stepped inside the precinct and confessed to the rest of his team. Trust didn't come easy to her, and she knew was better off for it. She'd learned that lesson back when she was still losing baby teeth. Still, she'd been close to trusting him, this detective with kind eyes who had saved her life. The smart, gentle man who had taught her what safety felt like.

And in the end, Kevin's seemingly unlimited kindness had run dry. He didn't like her. He didn't respect her or want her around. He resented her presence in his home and his life. It seemed like he couldn't forgive her for not being the woman he had hoped she was, and not for the first time Alexis wished they could start over, go back to a time before regrets and expectations, even if it meant erasing the memory of his body moving against hers in that age-old rhythm. Even if it meant undoing those moments of kindness and attention that had made her heart flip flop. It had been a long time since she'd liked someone, and it had been an even longer time since she'd cared if they liked her back.

Alexis suspected this time would come, and each passing day of his growing ire had forced her to walk on eggshells. That was why she'd wanted to fix his coffee maker—to show him how grateful she was for the way he'd taken her in, protected her, taken care of her when no one else had stepped in to help.

She'd never imagined he'd react so negatively to her gift. She'd thought the gesture, however small, might buy her some time. What she would do with that time, she had no idea. Running was a much more comfortable concept than making herself vulnerable, and Alexis knew enough about how the police operated to understand that Kevin wouldn't see her as anything other than a criminal if she did come forward. God, she'd been so stupid to even hope for something more permanent than a warm couch.

Fifteen seconds. Alexis shook herself. If she'd worn out her welcome, then so be it. She didn't need him. She didn't need anyone. The last twenty-one years had proven that much.

Alexis turned off the now-functional coffee maker and started packing.

* * *

She was stuffing random articles of clothing into a duffle bag she'd found in the bottom of the hall closet when she heard Kevin's bedroom door open. She froze for a moment, temporarily caught in the act. Should she hide the bag and pretend nothing was wrong? Should she leave _now_?

Alexis forced herself to keep going, packing away what she could, until she heard his footsteps behind her.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice like broken glass.

She chose not to answer, instead continuing to pack the few possessions she'd accumulated while she'd stayed with him. She stalled on the latest copy of Rick's book, given it to her by the author himself. Briefly, she wondered what he would think of her plan to get out of dodge.

"Alexis?"

Kevin's hand landed on her shoulder, and she couldn't stop herself from flinching. His hand slipped off, and she was left cold and anchorless by its absence.

"You're leaving." It wasn't a question.

"I think I've worn out my welcome…. Haven't I?"

She heard him sigh, and then silence set back in.

"I didn't know about the coffee maker," she began, still hurt by his reaction. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry."

That didn't comfort her. There were still a million other things she needed to be sorry for.

"Are you leaving town?" he asked.

"Are you asking as the detective on my case?"

"Yes. I'm also asking as someone who cares about you."

She snorted before zipping the bag shut. "Right. You should just do yourself a favor and arrest me now. You clearly don't want me around anymore."

"I'm not—" he sighed. "You're still welcome here."

His hand closed over her shoulder, and the heat of his hand on her scar sent chills down her spine. This time, she didn't shake it off. "It was one night, Kevin. Right now it feels like a million years ago... You don't owe me anything."

"I know."

"I'm not who you wanted me to be. It's okay to call it what it is."

"Alexis—"

She finally turned to face him, carefully keeping her gaze off of his face. "Let me leave or arrest me, detective. Those are your choices."

Kevin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll make you a deal. You come with me in the morning, and afterward I'll take you wherever you want to go. The airport. The bus station. Castle's. Whatever you need."

Alexis frowned. "Come with you where?"

"Not the precinct," he answered. She bristled at his evasiveness, but his offer was tempting.

"How long?" she asked.

"An hour."

Alexis turned back to her bag, running her fingertips over the zipper, her heart caught in her throat.

His voice was gentle again, a tone she hadn't heard in far too long. "I promise you'll be safe. All I'm asking for is an hour. And then you can leave. And I'll help you do it."

She swallowed, then forced the word from her lips. "Okay."

* * *

Morning found Alexis sitting on the edge of the couch, her nest of blankets folded neatly besides her, the bag with her belongings on top. A cup of coffee was cradled in her hands. She'd been apprehensive about brewing coffee again, but she hadn't slept. Instead, her mind had buzzed with possibilities and questions and variables, a puzzle too big and too incomplete for her to parse. She wondered where Kevin would take her, why he thought that this trip would change her mind. She wondered whether or not he'd simply take her to the precinct after all, if her trust in him, however fragile, had been misplaced after all. She thought about possible escape routes and wondered whether she could sneak Pi out of his protective custody on her way out of town. They could leave everything behind and start fresh. Either way, she'd have to say goodbye to Rick before she left. He was one of the few bright spots in the mess that had become her life in New York.

Over and over and over, Alexis wondered what would happen to Kevin if she left. Would he ever solve her case? Would he meet another girl in a bar and, this time, would it stick?

"Good morning," he said softly, dressed in casual clothes and looking wholly prepared for his day. "You ready to go?"

Alexis nodded, and everything moved very fast then. Kevin hurried to slip into a jacket, pulling his car keys from their ring on the kitchen wall. She slipped shoes on, too, and he ushered her down the steps and into his car. The ride was quiet, neither one of them in the mood to try for conversation. Each passing minute in the silent car had Kevin fidgeting more and more, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, playing with the radio, check and re-checking his mirrors. If Alexis didn't know any better, she'd say the detective was nervous. She might have considered teasing him about it if her own heart wasn't pitter-pattering with unease. Where was he taking her?

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the stone drive of a cemetery. Kevin found a parking spot with practiced ease, and Alexis looked around, the equations in her head not adding up. Before he left the car, she grabbed his hand.

"What are we doing here?"

There was a shadow of a smile on his face. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Kevin led her from the car, through the labyrinth of carved stones until he stopped in front of a simple, granite headstone.

"Kevin?" Alexis asked, her eyes caught on the name "Jennifer Ryan."

His expression was gentle, but his voice, rough with emotion, spoke to the depths of his grief. "She was my wife."

* * *

Author's Note: Sometimes you wake up in the morning and realize you haven't updated a story in two months. Whoops. My bad, guys. I hope this was worth the wait. Thank so much for your patience. Please review! I'd love to know what you think.


	9. Chapter 9

In Pieces

By

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Nine

* * *

Alexis stared at the name on the headstone.

 _Jennifer Ryan_

"She was my wife," Kevin said softly, his voice heavy.

It took less than a second to do the math. Kevin's wife, only 29 years old at the time, had died two years prior. Suddenly all the grief and emotional weight he'd carried the night she met him made a perfect kind of sense. In fact, that had been his dead wife's birthday. She'd seduced him the night he'd come to drown his sorrows. Oh God….

"How did she die?"

"Stage four metastatic melanoma. We caught it too late. She was gone in less than a year."

Her mind raced through variables, helpfully supplying bits and pieces about grieving that she'd picked up over the years. This was his secret. He'd been married, once upon a time. He'd been living his happily ever after…. "Why are you showing me this?"

"The coffee maker hasn't worked since before she passed away. And… I don't know. My mind played tricks on me, and when I realized that she wasn't… I couldn't handle the fallout."

"What do you—" Alexis began. "Wait, you thought she was the one making coffee?" She began to wish she'd never tried to surprise him.

His voice was heavy with regret. "Like I said, my mind played tricks on me."

"That's why you acted the way you did?"

"That's why I do a lot of the things I do." He bit his lip, staring down at the headstone. "I know I've been an ass. And I've bullied you. And I've made you feel unwelcome, controlled probably. I don't have any excuse for it. I tell myself everything I've done is to help you, that I'm protecting you from yourself. But the truth is, ever since Jenny got sick, I've been scraping to find control in all the chaos."

Her stomach twisted with guilt. "And I'm the chaos?"

Rather than sad or angry, he had a soft smile on his face. "I've never felt so out of control in my life."

"I…" She shook her head, unable to form a response. She knew it'd come to this. This moment when he reviled her for not being everything she'd told him she was.

"I'm sorry that I was so rough with you," he continued. "I know it was out of line, that I pushed you too far. And I'm sorry for that. I want to keep you safe. I want to help you. I hope you'll be able to see that and forgive me someday."

The weight of his apology almost knocked the air right out of her. Why in the world would he go through so much trouble to help her? Was it just because they'd slept together? What kind of man feels so responsible for someone he's barely even met? She certainly didn't feel like she owed him anything after their night together. She hadn't even given him the courtesy of staying until he woke up in the morning. How different would things have been if she hadn't left that morning?

The answer hit her square in the gut. Nothing. It wouldn't change a thing. She'd still be a criminal, a fuckup, and he'd still be a good, responsible man.

"You're not the one who needs to apologize here," she said, her voice rough. She took a shaky breath, that all-too-familiar tension crawling up her spine as she considered every hurtful thing she'd ever done to him. Now she had a few new items to add to the list.. "I wish I knew how to be something—anything—else. I never should have let you believe there's anything special about me. I'm sorry, Kevin. I know how disappointed you must be. I-I don't even know why you let me stay with you. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"It's not about me, Alexis. It's about you. It's about making your situation better. About believing in yourself enough to fight for yourself."

"But I'm not worth fighting for!"

A profound sadness flashed across his face, so different from pity. She turned away, wiping her face so he wouldn't see her cry again. "I think we're done here," she muttered, hurrying through the headstones and back to the car. Putting as much space between herself and Kevin's dead wife as possible. The contrast between them was beyond stark. Jenny was the long-lost love of his life; Alexis was … a complication at best. Chaos and baggage personified. He'd never chose her, never truly want her. The fantasy she'd been holding onto had shattered at her feet.

"Alexis!" His hands landed on her shoulders and she allowed him to spin her around to face him. "How could you think that?"

"You don't know the real me, Kevin. If you did, you wouldn't be trying so hard to help."

"I've read your file. I know about your crimes. And I also know your life hasn't been easy. You've been hurt by people who should have been protecting and taking care of you."

She flinched, shutting her eyes against the memories: a barrage of foster homes, scrappy kids who talked with their fists, disenchanted caseworkers and counselors and teachers who had labeled her as trouble from the start, the occasional foster parent who loved her enough to soften that shell she'd built around herself, the more frequent parent who saw her as nothing more than a resource to use, something pretty to covet, or a stray animal to kick around.

"Hey." He touched her cheek, and tears spilled over her lashes, down her cheeks and onto his fingers. "I can't force you to do something you don't want to do, and I'm done pressuring you. Instead, I hope that you'll help me help you. That's all this was ever supposed to be, after all. And it doesn't even have to be me. You can talk to Castle if that makes you feel better. But… Alexis, I hope you know that there are better and brighter things out there for you than this. You deserve more than the hand you've been dealt, and, more than anyone else I've ever met, you have the strength to rise above it. You just have to give it a shot. Please, give yourself the benefit of the doubt here."

She watched him with shock, revelling in the warmth of his touch that seemed to sink deep into her bones. He watched her back, his gaze betraying nothing but kindness, nothing but an earnest care, a gentle desperation to help. Not for the first time, Alexis wished she could see herself the way he saw her. Heat rushed into her cheekbones, and she was reminded again of his ability to disarm her. To unravel her reason and senses and lose herself in his kind blue eyes. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Come with me to the precinct. Give your statement. Help us take down these people who want to hurt you."

"And then what?" she laughed bitterly. "Go to jail with all the criminals I've helped put away?"

He shook his head. "I'll do everything in my power and more to keep you safe. To help you move forward and have a real life. Just think, Alexis, this could all be over soon."

It was like cold water being thrown over her. Yes, she'd love to be free to walk down the street again, but nothing was ever so cut and dry. And when her case ended, so, too, would her time with Detective Ryan.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

She shook her head, and he leaned closer.

"Tell me something real?" he asked.

"I'll miss you. When this is all over."

She felt his surprise, felt the tension in his frame at her response. For all the kind things he'd said to her and done for her, Alexis didn't expect him to miss her. She'd brought all sorts of complications and mess to his life when he'd already had more than enough on his plate.

Finally, she heard his response, spoken so softly that she wasn't sure she was supposed to hear him. "Maybe it doesn't have to be goodbye."

Pleasure-pain ripped open her ribcage, and Alexis pressed her lips against his. After a shocked second, his lips moved against hers, and his hands sank into her hair, tugging lightly until her mouth was angled just how he liked it. The simple possession of the gesture elicited a sigh from her chest, and Kevin pulled back.

"We can't," he whispered.

Just like that, reality flooded back in. Right. Of course he couldn't. He was a grieving widower, a homicide detective whose job was to bring her in.

"I'm sorry—" she began.

"It's not that I don't want to." He gave her a small smile and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. "It's just not the right time."

She nodded. God, she hated that he was right. "You really believe I'm worth fighting for?"

"I know you're worth fighting for." There wasn't an ounce of doubt in his tone or his earnest blue eyes.

Alexis buried her face in his shirt, breathing in the scent of his cologne and laundry soap. If he could believe in her, knowing her baggage, her crimes, her particular brand of chaos, maybe she could try to believe in herself, too.

Her heart in her throat, she looked up at him. "I'll come with you. I'll give my statement. But we need to make a stop on the way."

* * *

They stopped in front of a dingy, nondescript apartment building that looked exactly the same as every other building on the block. Kevin looked up and down the street. "You sure you wanna do this?"

Alexis nodded. "I don't know when I'll ever see him again."

"Alright." They got out of the car and headed up the stairs to the building. The old, well-used flooring and off-beige walls reminded Alexis of the building she and Pi had lived in before her crimes had caught up with her.

They stopped in front of yet another nondescript door on the third floor. Kevin knocked a few times, and a man that Alexis had never seen before answered the door.

"Morgan," Kevin greeted the man. "Crespo's got a visitor."

Officer Morgan stepped aside, and Alexis grinned when she saw Pi sitting on the couch in front the television. He looked up from the daytime talk show and smiled. "Lexi?"

She closed the distance between them and threw her arms around him. "Pi! I've missed you so much."

His arms wrapped around her waist and he lifted her off her toes. "Oh my god," he exclaimed, setting her down and stepping back. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

Pi looked elated at her visit, and when he glanced over at Kevin, his smile dimmed a little bit. He ran a hand through his hair. "Can I speak to you alone?" he asked her.

She looked at Kevin, who seemed to be mulling over Pi's request.

"Please?" Alexis asked.

After a beat, he nodded, and Pi led Alexis into a tiny, windowless bedroom just off the main room. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of body odor that emanated from the room.

"I can't believe you're here," Pi grinned, practically bouncing. "This is so great." He began flitting around the room, picking up dirty clothes and random items in a manic rush. "You have no idea how bored I've been. Where have you been hiding all this time?"

She smiled, but it felt forced. Bored? While he'd been bored with his protective custody, she'd nearly been killed. She shook the thought away. "Just laying low. Trying to stay off Dimitri's radar. How have you—"

Pi upended a box in his manic rush to tidy up, and a handful of small pouches and a razor tumbled to the floor. The pouches were stuffed with white powder. He cursed and fell to his knees, tossing the paraphernalia back into the box.

"Pi," Alexis gasped. "Are you… are you using again?"

"You weren't supposed to see that, Lexi."

"That's cocaine. How the hell did you get cocaine in police custody?"

He snorted. "Lieutenant Morgan isn't exactly a saint."

"Did he sell them to you?" She crossed the room and yanked the box out of his hands. "I thought you gave this up? I thought you were going clean. After what I did for you…"

"I did. I was." He shook his head. "Listen, I've fixed everything. It's all been worked out. I'm just so glad you're back. Now everything can be the way it should be."

A sinking feeling began to settle into the pit of her stomach. "What are you talking about? Where did you get the drugs from, Pi?"

"Okay, just listen to what I'm telling you before you freak out, okay?"

"What have you done?"

"Dimitri's not a bad guy, Lexi. All of this is just one big misunderstanding."

"Oh my god." She sank onto the filthy mattress. "You didn't. Tell me you didn't."

"When I explained to him what you can do, what Ivanova was making you do to cover my debt, Dimitri cleared it. He said now that Ivanova's dead, it's all forgotten."

"And you're in debt to Dimitri now?" She tossed the box against the wall. It smacked loudly, the contents rattling around inside it as it left a scratch in the peeling paint. "Tell me you're not really this stupid."

He shook his head, holding up his hands as if he couldn't for the life of him understand why she was mad at him. "No, I'm not in debt."

"He's not making you pay?"

"It's free."

She shook her head. "No, no it's not free! Dammit, Pi, you know that nothing from a man like that is free." She shoved his chest, anger taking over. "How is he making you pay? Tell me."

"Alexis?" Kevin called through the door. "Are you okay in there?"

"He wants to offer you a job, Lexi." He grinned. "I told him everything about you, how smart you are, how careful you are. You never get caught. And he doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to hire you. You just have to give him Ivanova's files as proof of what you can do. I've taken care of this. You've always taken care of me, but this time I've finally been able to help you."

She was going to be sick. "Pi, I'm going to give my statement to the police. That's what I came here to tell you."

A dumbfounded expression spread over his face. "What? You can't do that."

"It's the right thing to do."

He shook his head. "Do you want to end up in jail?"

"Detective Ryan says I won't have to—"

"He's lying to you, Lexi." He watched her like she was the one making stupid, deluded decisions.

"I don't think he is."

Pi began pacing the room. "Wait, how is this supposed to help you?"

"If I help them, I can be free of all this. Maybe I can have a real life where I won't have to work for criminals. I can be normal."

He stopped, his eyebrows creased in confusion. "But you're not normal. You're better than normal."

"Pi—"

"No, listen to me. What kind of future do you think is out there for you? You've got a record, all your tech experience is illegal hacking and theft, and you don't even have a high school diploma—"

"I can get my GED," she insisted. "And I don't know, maybe go to a community college or something."

He shook his head. "No. All these normal people, you're not like them. They're gonna look at who you are on paper and they're gonna reject you. Just like they always have. I mean, come on, Lexi, how many stories have you told me about these kinds of people failing you? Why is this any different?"

"Because I don't want to do this anymore, Pi," she insisted. "I don't want this to be my life anymore."

"You're not made for some kind of apple-pie, picket fence life, Lexi. And if you try, you're just gonna end up crushed by these normals and their labels. You know what's in that so-called future you're dreaming of? A dead end.. Poverty. Oppression. The kind you can't ever rise up from."

"And what the hell kind of life are we living now? Indebted to murderers and living in whatever shitty, dilapidated shoebox that we can afford?"

"Not anymore. Not if you take Dimitri's offer. Do you know what kind of money you can make working for a man like him?"

She stood up. "I can't believe you'd do this to me after everything I've done to keep you safe. Do you know what happened the last time I saw Dimitri? He tried to kill me. He's got a fucking bounty on my head—"

For the first time, Pi began to look frustrated by her ire. "I told you, I took care of it!"

"Alexis?" Kevin rapped on the door. "Open the door."

She reached for the door, and Pi caught her arm. "Let go of me."

"I'm trying to help you."

"I don't want your help," she snarled, yanking herself out of his grip. "Stay away from me."

"Lexi—"

The door swung open with a boom, the lock busted where Kevin had kicked it in. Alexis rushed to Kevin's side. She took his hand and began pulling him out of the apartment. "We're leaving," she said definitively.

"What happened?" he asked as he fell into step beside her.

"I'll tell you in the car. Let's just get out of here." She rushed down the staircase and out the doors of the building, Kevin close behind. Tears blurred her vision. How could Pi have betrayed her? And how could he seriously call it help?

"Lexi!" Pi called, hurrying down the stairs behind them. "Wait up!"

Alexis turned to face him, ready to tell him off, and a shot rang through the street.

With a groan of pain, Kevin slumped onto the ground next to her.

"Kevin!" she screamed. Panic tunneled her vision as she kneeled next to him, watching the blood saturate his jeans. "Oh my god." She reached for the wound, ready to hold pressure, and he shoved her back.

"Run," he gritted out, gripping his thigh.

"Hello, myshka." The cold voice sent ice down her spine. Alexis turned her head to see Dimitri a few strides away, a gun held tightly in his hand, a tendril of smoke escaping the tip. His white, perfectly straight teeth glittered in the sunlight. "You're looking well."

She looked back at Kevin, who had paled considerably in the short span of a few seconds. "Kevin—"

"Run!"

Alexis scrambled backward and stood, her body pivoting to break into a sprint, and strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms to her chest.

"This is for your own good, " Pi whispered as he pressed a rag over her mouth and nose. Alexis held her breath, smacking her skull backwards into his nose.

Pi cursed and his grip on her loosened. She smashed his instep and drove her elbow backwards into his stomach, breaking from his embrace as he gasped in pain.

She made it two steps before Dimitri caught her and shoved her hard onto the pavement. Cement bit into her palms and his foot made contact with her stomach, blinding her to everything but pain and knocking the air from her lungs. Dimly, she heard Kevin screaming, at Dimitri or from his gunshot wound, she didn't know.

Dimitri flipped her onto her back with practiced ease, sealing the cloth over her mouth and nose as she coughed and sputtered and cried. Her eyes landed on Kevin, who was being held at gunpoint by Officer Morgan.

Then a chemical tang invaded her throat, her nostrils, and the world went black.

* * *

Rick Castle had been staring at the letter in his hands for approximately four minutes, rereading the words over and over again before he brought himself to make the phone call. The call went to voicemail, and he wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

"Hey, Alexis. It's um, Rick. Castle, that is. Just checking in. Wondered if you'd like to escape the quinoa for a night and get some pizza or something. Anyway… just, um, call me back. I'll be here. Well, I'll have my phone. With me. Um, yeah. So… bye." He hung up, kicking himself for sounding like such an idiot. He really, really hoped she'd call him back.

He never should have stolen those hairs from her hairbrush at Kevin's place. But then he'd never know.

She'd never know.

He had to tell her.

How the hell was he supposed to tell her?

Castle rubbed at his face, his eyes carrying over the neatly printed page for the umpteenth time. Most of the words were some kind of medical-ese, but there was some plain English in there, too. One key phrase, really, that told him everything he needed to know.

"Paternal match: 100%"

* * *

Author's Note: Hello out there! I hope you enjoyed this long long long long-awaited update. I promise to not make you wait nine months for the next installment, and I really hope people are still reading this.

Please review?


	10. Chapter 10

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Ten

* * *

"You have reached 555-457-9312. Leave a message at the tone."

" _Hey, Alexis. It's Rick again. Would you mind calling me? I can't get ahold of Ryan, and I'm starting to worry about you two."_

* * *

"This is Kevin's voicemail. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you."

" _Hey, Kev, next time you're planning to no-show at work, you might wanna tell someone. And maybe consider picking up your phone. Beckett's getting worried. . .. And I am, too. Call me back, brother."_

* * *

"Lexi, wake up."

Alexis jerked, her head flopping around like a fish out of water. Clammy hands touched her skin and she flinched back.

"Wow. You're okay. Just relax."

She clumsily rolled onto her side, her mouth dry, her tongue swollen, her head pounding. She was going to be sick. She tried to open her eyes, blinking back against the light overhead. "Pi?" her voice was rough with disuse.

"I'm here. I'm right here. I'm so glad you're okay."

She tried to sit up, taking deep breath as the world spun around her. She blinked several times until a small, dingy room came into focus. She's been lying on a flat, threadbare mattress on a stained hardwood floor. Besides the young man in front of her, there was nothing else in the room. She looked beyond Pi to a closed door and behind herself to a grime-covered window and the darkness beyond it. Was it night? How long had she been out?

"Where am I?" she asked.

"One of Dimitri's safe houses." He looked her over. "Are you feeling alright?"

Memories slammed into her: arguing with Pi, being ambushed by Dimitri. She touched her abdomen, where a dull ache had set in, no doubt from the force of Dimitri's boot. And then she remembered—Kevin. Bloody and pale and begging her to escape.

"Kevin!" She stood, wincing at the ache in her body and swaying a bit from the remainder of the drug in her system.

Pi caught her arm. "Maybe you should sit—"

She shoved him, stumbling into him as she pinned him to the wall by his shirt. "Where is he, Pi? What happened to him?" Fear clutched at her stomach. He'd been shot, and she'd been unconscious for… at least eight or nine hours, if the darkness outside the window was any indication. A lot could happen in eight hours. Kevi could have been murdered a thousand times over in eight hours—

"He's here," Pi said, his eyes wide.

Alexis scrambled away from her friend, shoving open the door to the tiny room. "Kevin?! Kevin!"

She rushed down a narrow hallway, her eyes skipping over Officer Morgan, who was sitting on the couch, back in his seemingly sloth-like state, and Dimitri, who was seated at a chipped, crooked table, speaking Russian into his phone in a low voice.

Seeing the mobster in a pressed, clearly tailored suit among all the squalor, and remembering with vivid detail the callous way he'd shot Kevin, Alexis launched herself at the Russian, spitting a litany of threats and insults as Pi struggled to hold her back.

"Lexi, don't!"

"Ah, myshka. It's nice to see you are awake." Dimitri stood up with a smirk. "I can see all that sleep has done you some good."

"Where is he?" she snarled.

"Where is who?"

"You know who!"

Seemingly amused by her fury, Dimitri jerked his head to a narrow door just off the kitchen, and Alexis jerked herself out of Pi's grip, stumbling to the door. She shoved it open, and her heart stopped. The door led to an old bathroom, all old, fixtures and moldy tile. Kevin had been deposited into an old-fashioned, claw foot bathtub. His face was ashen, and he didn't seem to be conscious.

"Kevin?" her voice cracked as she approached the tub, slower now as fear hung heavier with each step.

She kneeled on the moldy, cracked tile and touched his arm. His skin was cold, and blood coated the bottom of the tub. Kevin's blood. She saw that the bullet wound on his thigh had been wrapped with gauze that had already been soaked through with blood. He needed more than half-assed first aid. She shook him. "Kevin, wake up!"

He didn't move.

"Kevin!" she screamed, shaking him hard enough that she felt her own bones rattling.

He twitched, his eyelids slowly opening. Those blue eyes that she'd come to love moved sluggishly around before settling on her. "'Lexis?" he slurred.

"He is not doing so well, this detective of yours," Dimitri said from his place in the hallway.

Alexis ignored him, entwining Kevin's icy fingers with her own. "You're gonna be okay, Kevin. I promise."

"You shouldn't lie to him."

She turned around to face Dimitri with a snarl. "Shut up!"

He didn't seem bothered by her outburst. "Lying will not change what's in front of you."

"Don't listen to him," Kevin murmured. "I'll be fine."

"He's dying, myshka. You know it. I know it." He nodded his head to Kevin. "He knows it, too." Dimitri stepped forward and held out his hand. "Come talk with me for a moment. We can sort this out."

"Don't go…" Kevin whispered.

Alexis slowly tore eyes away from Kevin's pale, prone form to Dimitri's outstretched hand.

"I do not think I have to tell you that he doesn't have much time," the Russian reminded her.

"I'll be right back," she told Kevin.

Alexis gulped, and took the mobster's hand, which was surprisingly warm. She felt calluses on his trigger finger as he guided her into the kitchen and shut the bathroom door behind them.

"What do you want?" Alexis demanded, yanking her hand out of his.

"What do you think?"

She looked him up and down, in a single glance taking in his non-aggressive stance, the impatience pinching his expression. He didn't plan to hurt her, but she didn't have all the time in the world, either. "You want the intel I stole for Gregor. You can have it as soon as Kevin is safe."

Dimitri's eyes narrowed. "Your friend told me you were smart."

Panic began to crawl up her spine, digging its claws into her lungs. "Then what do you want?"

"I do want everything you stole for my cousin," his head tilted to the side as if he thoroughly enjoying her surrender, "but more than that, I want you, myshka."

Alexis froze; her lungs forgot how to draw breath.

Dimitri laughed. "No, not like that. Your body doesn't tempt me. Your little friend," Dimitri gestured to Pi, who was watching their exchange anxiously from the living room, "told me all about you. Your skills, your intelligence, your ingenuit. I have all sorts of uses for someone like you."

"Pi's an addict," Alexis seethed, loud enough that she knew her friend would hear her. "He'll say anything you want to get a fix."

"I do not think he was lying about you. Here is my offer: In exchange for that detective's life, I get yours." His eyes glittered as he grinned at her. "You'll work for me. Your every breath, every thought, every waking moment will belong to me. And you will make me a king."

Alexis felt like she'd been gutted, and fear and dread wrapped around her chest, sinking into all the hollow spaces left by the years leading up to this moment. "I don't want to be a criminal."

His expression softened, almost becoming indulgent. He patted her hair like a doting brother. "You already are, myshka."

Dimitri's kindness cut deeper than the chain link that scarred her shoulder, and Alexis blinked back tears. Kevin's words from just hours earlier echoed in her mind. She deserved better than the cards she'd been dealt. She could aspire to more than the life she'd been living. God, she wanted that. She wanted it so much it hurt, but wanting didn't change reality.

And it didn't take a lifetime of standing on the outside of normal society, of being labeled "trouble" because she'd been born unwanted, of watching the life she dreamed about slip ever further from her grasp for her to know, deep in her bones, that there was no getting out of this. She didn't deserve better, and even if she did, this offer was still the best she could hope for.

Kevin had saved her life, taken her in and cared for her. He'd given her a dream. And it was time to wake up.

Alexis took a deep breath. "If I do this for you, you'll let Kevin go. You'll have that idiot dirty cop over there take him to a hospital—"

"Yes."

She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. "If he dies, I will end you." She stepped closer to Dimitri, crowding him against the kitchen table. "I will take everything you have, every dime, every asset, every friend, and I will turn it all against you. _I will ruin you_. Do you understand?"

Dimitri rolled his eyes, "Yes. I understand, and I am shaking in my boots."

Alexis shoved him, turning her fury onto Officer Morgan. "Get up. You've got a job to do."

She hurried back into the bathroom, where Kevin jerked upright at her entrance. He seemed to be struggling to stay awake, and dread unfurled in her chest as she realized he might not make it to safety.

"Alexis, what are you doing?"

She touched his face, affixing a smile to her lips. "It's my turn to save you."

He shook his head. "You'd better not."

Her bottom lip quivered, and she cupped his face in her hands, pressing a gentle kiss against his cold lips. If she couldn't _be_ good, at least she could do this one good thing. "I could have loved you."

"No. Don't do this," he said weakly, his shaking arms reaching for her, to pull her closer or push her away, she wasn't sure. "I'm not worth this."

She caught his hand as tears slipped down her cheeks. "Thank you for showing me there are still good people in the world."

"Alexis," he shuddered, and she stood and backed away. If she kept touching him, kept looking in his eyes, she'd lose her nerve altogether. And he didn't have time for second thoughts.

"Take him to the hospital," she snapped at Morgan. "Now!"

Everything moved very fast then, taking on a surreal quality as Pi and Morgan helped Kevin out of the apartment so he could be taken to the hospital. Kevin tried to fight the two men, tried to beg Alexis to reconsider, but it was useless. She simply stared at the trail of blood left behind, and through all of it, she felt Dimitri's eyes on her.

"You see?" he said, when he finally approached her, a spider stalking something caught in its web. "I keep my promises. Your detective is being taken to a hospital as we speak. We're even."

Alexis turned on him, rabid desperation and helpless fury fighting to break out of her chest. "Even? You sick son of a bitch—"

Dimitri's lips twisted into a snarl and stars exploded behind her eyes as his gun whipped into the side of her face. Alexis crumpled with a cry, clutching her cheekbone.

"Lexi!" Pi rushed over. He touched her face, where a bruise was already rising on her cheekbone. She flinched, her head spinning, disoriented by the blow.

Dimitri looked perplexed. "Oh, you're still here?"

"This wasn't part of our agreement," Pi said, "You said you wouldn't hurt—"

A gunshot rang through the room, and Alexis screamed as something hot and wet splashed onto her face. Pi slumped onto her lap, smoke rising from the fresh hole in his skull. The word narrowed to a point, to the body slumped onto her lap, to Pi's sightless brown eyes and the brain matter she could see on the floor next to her. She touched her face with shaking hands. Blood stained her fingers. The world had taken on a hazy quality, and her heart pounded in her head as a chill settled over her skin. Her teeth began to chatter as the room tilted to one side.

"No, no," Dimitri said, his voice somehow echoing. "You don't get to escape this, myshka." He slapped her once, then twice, but she didn't feel it.

He gripped a handful of hair, yanking her head to the side so that she was forced to look at Pi's body. "You see this? If you should ever think that you can call the shots here, I want you to remember your little friend. This is what happens when you disrespect me. Do you understand?"

Alexis stared blankly until he slapped her again, hard enough that she felt it this time. "Do you understand?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, her eyes locked on Pi's body. "I understand."

"Good." He stepped back, wiping his hands like he'd just touched something filthy. "Now go clean yourself up. We have business elsewhere."

* * *

Kevin had never been so pissed off and so helpless to do a single thing about it.

Locked in the truck of the car, his body felt every bump in the road. He did his best to keep track of every stop and every time the car turned, superimposing each perceived direction over a mental map.

He tried to leverage his legs up, to help bring some blood back to his chest and brain. He'd need every ounce of strength once Morgan stopped the car, because one thing was certain: he wasn't taking Kevin to a hospital.

In Kevin's experience, the only time you transported a person in the trunk of a car was when you were going to do something terrible to them. Kevin didn't intend to die that day, and certainly not by the hand of some sleazy traitor. He angled his body, trying to bring his legs up a bit. His left leg moved sluggishly, every part of his body desperate for more oxygenated blood than he could give it. It was agony to try to move his right leg. The bullet was still lodged deep inside his flesh.

Kevin took deep breaths, trying to center himself. Steady himself. Prepare himself for the moment when Morgan would open the trunk and finish what he'd started.

One left turn, straight for sixteen breaths, a right turn, and then the car came to a stop. Kevin began to breathe faster, the slam of the car door and the sound of footsteps on gravel echoing in time with his racing heart. He wasn't going to die here. He wasn't going to die here. He wasn't—

The keys dragged against the lock mechanism and the trunk popped open. As Morgan lifted the door, Kevin threw every ounce of his strength into kicking out at the man with both legs. Both feet made contact with his torso.

"What the—" Morgan went down hard as the wind was knocked out of him.

White-hot fire lanced up Kevin's leg, momentarily blurring the world around him, but he forced himself to move, to drag himself out of the trunk. He clumsily tumbled to the ground on top of Morgan, who was wheezing and grabbing for his gun.

Kevin jammed his forearm against the man's throat, and Morgan coughed and sputtered. The gun slipped from his fingers to the gravel beneath them and Kevin tossed it a few feet away.

Morgan formed a fist and punched Kevin's thigh, where the bullet was still invading his flesh. Kevin screamed, the world tunneling around him, but he pressed harder on Morgan's throat, let his arm bear more of his body weight. It was easier to focus on that pressure point with gravity helping him along.

Soon, the man's face began to turn purple, then blue, but Kevin didn't let up until he stopped fighting.

He lifted his arm off the unconscious man's throat, taking great gulps of air as the world spun and darkness began to wrap around him. His heart was racing, and he knew he was bleeding heavier than before. He didn't have much time.

He glanced around, inhaling the salty air of the Hudson. The river was only a few feet away. Morgan had been planning to dump his body. Kevin groped in Morgan's pockets till he found a phone. His fingers mashed buttons by heart as his vision blurred.

"Espo, it's me. I need a bus. . . by the Hudson. Near Hell's Kitchen, I think. " Kevin shook his head as darkness started closing in around him. "Tell Castle... "

The phone slipped from his fingers, Javier's panicked voice echoing through the speaker, and Kevin slumped forward. His head thumped against the gravel, and everything faded away.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter. Can't wait to hear what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

In Pieces

by

A.K. Hunter

Chapter Eleven

* * *

When Kevin opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his sister's tearstained face.

"Gwen?" His voice was thick and rough with disuse.

"There he is." She squeezed his hand, mindful of the IV attached, and her voice took on a scolding tone. "You've never scared me so much in my life, Kevin Ryan."

He blinked rapidly, his eyes dry and his eyelids heavy. Memories settled at the forefront of his mind, just out of reach of his sluggish recollection, like a word stuck to the tip of his tongue. He licked his dry lips. "Got any water?"

A mauve-colored cup with a helpful straw was placed at mouth level, and he drank until the cup was empty. It wasn't nearly enough. He opened his mouth to ask for more, but a nurse chose that moment to come into his room.

"Mr. Ryan," she greeted him, helping him sit up. Gwen watched with unconcealed worry as his arms shook from the weight of pushing himself up. He felt weak and fragile as a newborn kitten.

The nurse began to chart his vitals onto a clipboard. "It's good to see you awake. Your partner will be happy to hear the news."

His awareness sharpened a bit at mention of Javi. "Where is he?" Memories began flickering through the mind-numbing exhaustion. Bits of gravel biting into his cheek. The salty-sour scent of the Hudson.

"Downstairs getting some coffee," Gwen supplied. "I don't think he's slept since he picked you up. He almost didn't find you in time." She swallowed with some difficulty, her eyes filling with tears. "You could have died."

More images shuttered in, a full and perfect recollection of his trauma, and he flinched, his eyes slamming shut as if closing them could stop the memories from pouring in. His heart monitor picked up a new cadence.

"Kevin?" Gwen took his hand.

The warmth of her fingers helped to ground him, and he forced some semblance of a smile to his face, though he was sure it looked more like a grimace. He tried to take deep, slow breaths. "I didn't though."

"What happened to you?" she asked. "You didn't show up at work. Nobody could get you on the phone…"

"Mr. Ryan, if you don't mind, I'll need to check your wound." The nurse said, slipping on latex gloves in an efficient manner. It sounded like a request for permission, but it wasn't. She turned to Gwen. "You might not want to see this."

"I'll go get Javier." Gwen wiped her face and stood up. "Ma and Dad will want to know you're awake, too. They're trying to get the first flight out of the Bahamas."

He frowned at the news, guilt twisting his empty stomach. "Tell them I'm sorry to ruin their vacation."

"They won't be sorry. They love you, Kev. We all do." Gwen kissed his head and left the room.

The nurse pulled the covers down his legs and then tucked his hospital gown up around his hips. If Kevin had been in a better mood, he might have joked with the nurse about getting too familiar with him. Instead, his eyes fell down to the gauze and medical tape on his thigh.

"You lost a lot of blood before you got here," the nurse explained, "and there was quite a lot of tissue damage from the GSW. It wasn't a through and through, so we had to remove it with surgery. But we cleaned it, stitched it, and transfused the blood volume you lost. We've given you broad-spectrum antibiotics to prevent infection and morphine for the pain." She peeled up the bandage to reveal the wound. "It really is healing nicely."

Kevin nodded. "Thanks for that." His focus narrowed to the bruised, bloody, malformed hole in his own leg, stitched closed like a bad patch job or something from a horror movie. He didn't feel anything, likely thanks to the morphine drip attached to his hand. Still, the wound was unsettling. "It'll scar?" he asked.

She nodded then replaced the bandage with the same effortlessness she'd used to peel it back. "You're lucky it didn't hit your femoral artery. You wouldn't have survived that."

"Lucky," he mused. He remembered the bathtub, the third-rate first aid Morgan had given him, designed to slow the rate at which he would bleed out, but not stop it altogether. He remembered slowly losing the feeling in his fingers and toes, his body temperature dropping steadily with each ounce of fluid lost.

He'd screamed for help till his throat was raw. He'd tried to lift himself out of the tub with ever-weakening arms, slipping on his own blood and sliding back into the porcelain death trap on each attempt. He'd held pressure on the wound until he had no pressure to offer, till all he could do was feel his life essence slip through his fingers, pooling cruelly, _uselessly_ outside of his body.

Chills ran through his frame, and he heard the heart monitor speed up again. Fear had been a visceral, clawed thing, slicing through his heart, his lungs, and severing his mind of everything but panic, desperation. And sure, the pain had eventually abated, the fear has eventually dried up, but Kevin knew he would never forget those hours he'd spent dying.

He didn't feel lucky.

The nurse touched his shoulder, and he flinched back with a gasp. She seemed unphased by his behavior. "Mr. Ryan, would you like something to help calm you down?"

He shook his head. Words were failing him, and he struggled to pull air into his lungs.

She helped him sit up straighter, tugging his blankets back over his legs and offering a warm hand on his back. "I need you to calm down. If you can't calm yourself, I'll have to sedate you."

"I c-can't," he gasped. "N-need to t-t-talk to my p-partner." He didn't have time to waste. Alexis was still out there. Morgan was almost certainly still walking free—

Her hand drew soothing circles on his back. "You're safe now. I know you might not feel that way, but you're going to be just fine. Keep breathing for me, okay?"

Kevin nodded, sucking down great gulps of air. While panic burned through his nerve endings, he kept breathing, kept ignoring that faulty mechanism that told him he was dying all over again. He had to keep it together. He had to help Alexis. He had to get Morgan off the streets. That was his new mantra: help Alexis, catch Morgan, fall apart later.

"Much better," the nurse praised when his breathing had evened out and his heart monitor slowed to a normal rhythm. "Are you sure I can't get you anything?"

"I'd like some water," he rasped.

"I'll be right back." She left the room, and Kevin sank a little deeper into the hospital mattress. Exhaustion pressed in on him, softening the edges of his anxiety. How had he ended up in this place? They'd started out the day with a visit to Jenny's grave, a last-ditch effort for Alexis to understand him, to understand why he was so desperate to help her, to see herself the way he saw her. . . And then everything had gone sideways.

His cheeks warmed the slightest bit as he remembered her lips pressed against his. An echo pierced through his mind.

 _I could have loved you_.

Christ, he had to get out of this hospital. Out of this bed. She'd made a deal for him. She'd mortgaged her future—again—to save him. It wasn't acceptable. He couldn't let this happen. He tried to sit up again, biting back a whimper as pain flare through his thigh. His arms shook with the effort of holding himself up.

The door to his room burst open, and Javi strode through it, throwing his arms around Kevin. "You scared the hell out of me," he whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again."

"I'll see what I can do." Kevin hugged his partner back, hating how tired he was from the simple act.

Javi sat back and took Gwen's seat next to the bed. "You look like hell."

Kevin laughed at the matter of fact tone. "I feel like it, too."

His partner, however, wasn't laughing. "What the hell happened, man?"

Kevin shrank back a little further into his starched hospital sheets. Where did he even begin?

"Castle told me about your house guest." Javier's tone was flat, betraying zero emotion. "Is she the reason I found you bleeding out next to the Hudson?"

"Yes and no." Kevin sighed, "I'm sorry I—"

"I don't want to hear an apology from you. Not yet." Javi licked his lips, looking around the room. "So while I've been looking for her, thinking that I was working the case, thinking I was helping you, you two were, what? Shacking up?"

"No! No, I haven't touched her like that since the night we met. I wouldn't take advantage like that. Come on, you know me."

"I'm not sure I do know you. The Kevin I thought I knew would never have hidden something like this from me."

"It's not like that, Javi."

"So tell me what's going on here. With no warning, you miss work, show up bleeding to death in Hell's Kitchen, and it turns out you've been harboring a criminal for the last month?"

"If you let me explain—"

"Oh, I fully intend to do so. In fact, Beckett is gonna take your statement. You're part of this case now."

Kevin shook his head. "Javi, what happened to Morgan?"

Javier frowned. "We found him with you, and he came around in the ambulanec. He was checked out last night. Said the guy who shot you choked him out, too. But I think he's fine—"

"He's dirty. He's working for the Odessa syndicate."

"What?"

Kevin told his partner what had happened, starting with getting shot outside of Pi's safehouse and ending with Morgan driving him out to the Hudson to kill him and dump his body. Javier's face paled when Kevin told him about bleeding out in the grimy, old bathtub for hours on end. Kevin found himself stumbling as he described the deal Alexis had made for him, glossing over the empty resignation in her eyes, the beautiful, heartbreaking things she'd told him, the way she'd kissed him like she knew they'd never see each other again. It was too fresh a wound, deeper than the bullet wound in his thigh.

"—and when he opened the trunk, I just sort of attacked him. I wasn't going to let him kill me, Javi…." Kevin blew out a breath. "So he's in the wind now?"

"Shit." Javier rubbed his face. "I'll put out a BOLO. And we'll add a security detail outside your room."

"Get me a map."

"What?"

"I tried my best to memorize the way from the apartment. If you can get me a map, I can try to narrow the search field down."

Javier nodded. "I'll get you one. Beckett's on her way." He stood up.

"For what it's worth, I am sorry—"

"Is she worth it?" his partner asked. "Getting shot, putting your career at risk? Is she worth all this?"

In a heartbeat, Kevin saw a repaired coffeemaker, a glowing tree, a pair of tearful blue eyes.

 _Thank you for showing me there's still good people in the world._

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "She is."

Javier shook his head. He left the room without another word, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

Not long after Kevin gave his statement to Beckett, who had traded his overdue truths for probationary status at the precinct and a long speech about trust and disappointment, Castle came to Kevin's room.

The writer was pale and drawn, his shoulders hunched forward as if he was trying to make himself smaller. "Hey," he said, slumping into the seat next to Kevin's hospital bed.

"You look about as bad as I do."

"Not to diminish everything you've been through, but it's been a week." Castle patted Kevin's shoulder. "I'm glad you're on the mend."

"Any word on Alexis?" Kevin asked.

Castle shook his head, his expression twisting. "No. No sign of her. Esposito's out following your trail."

It was unbearable, being stuck in a hospital bed while the world kept spinning around him. Each breath was another second that Morgan had to evade the police, another second Alexis was missing, trapped by the head of the Russian mafia—or worse.

"I'm sorry I outed your involvement in all this," the writer said suddenly. "I didn't know what else to do. You were both missing, then you turned up, but Alexis didn't..."

"Don't be sorry. I made my bed." He cocked his head to the side. "So, is there a particular reason you look like death warmed up? Let me guess, Beckett had it out with you when she found out the truth?"

"Yeah." Castle nodded. "But that's not why."

"What is it?"

"It's about Alexis. It… What I have to say, it'll affect her. And I feel like she should be the first one to hear it."

Kevin frowned. What could Castle possibly have to tell Alexis that he couldn't tell Kevin first? Kevin's phone rang, and both men locked eyes on the display. Esposito. Kevin glanced up at Castle for permission, and the writer nodded.

Kevin answered. "Epso? You find something?"

"You could say that." Through the phone, Kevin could make out the frustration in his partner's tone. Terrifying possibilities slipped through Kevin's head.

"Well, tell me."

"We found Crespo. He's dead."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks very much for the reviews on the last chapter, guys. I hope you enjoyed this one as well. Please review!

Next time: We catch up with Alexis and Dimitri.


	12. Chapter 12

In Pieces

Chapter Twelve

* * *

There were daisies on the table.

Her eyes had been locked on the flowers almost from the moment Dimitri's bodyguard had yanked the bag off of her head. She'd vaguely heard the man bark out something about food, or maybe he'd just been telling her where to find the bathroom. Either way, the words never penetrated through the haze that had settled over her the moment Pi's body slumped onto her lap.

Alexis liked daisies. They were cheerful. Simple. Innocent. The sunny yellow petals greeted her from their vase on the bedside table, welcoming her into the large bedroom with its fine white furniture and soft gold accents. It was a bedroom she would have dreamed about as a child. She stayed curled on the floor in the corner, the bodyguard kept watch at the bedroom door as he talked into his cellphone, but she wasn't thinking of him. The strange lilt of Russian barely skimmed over the surface of her awareness.

Pi had given her daisies once. For her seventeenth birthday. She remembered his fingernails had been caked with dirt and chlorophyll. He'd spent hours searching the fields around the detention center for flowers. Wild daisies with some dandelions to bulk up the bouquet. She deserved something nice, he'd said.

It was the first birthday present she'd ever received.

Her hands curled tied around the fabric of her shirt and dried blood crunched under her fingertips. Something tapped her foot and she flinched, more Russian, followed by more rough, accented English. It didn't matter the language. She was mute.

For all of his flaws, Pi had only ever wanted nice things for her.

The bubble around her broke on the sound of her own ragged sob, and she curled tighter, wrapping her arms tight around herself. The metallic tang of blood filled her nostrils, staining her lungs with each gulp of air.

Distantly, she heard the door click open, watched as a pair of dark socks made their way through the plush white carpet and stop in front of her. A soothing cadence slipped into one ear and out the other.

Warm fingers slipped underneath her chin, burning her cold skin. Through her tear-filled, bleary gaze a pair of dark eyes came into focus. Full lips quirked upward into a smile.

Her eyes slid away from Dimitri, fluttering shut against the too-fresh memories. She tried to curl back into her bubble, but he held her chin in an iron grip. She watched his lips form words, and then he let go of her chin, rising to his feet and pulling her along by her arms.

He flicked on the bathroom light, illuminating the room that was bigger than her bedroom had been in the apartment she and Pi had shared. The apartment Pi would never again call home.

Fresh tears filled her eyes as Dimitri perched her on the edge of a gigantic tub. She blinked at the deep basin, imagining a bloodied detective curled inside of it.

Dimitri wiped her face and then her hands with a warm, soft washcloth. How was it that she had more blood on her hands than he did?

He pulled her to her feet once again, pressing a soft bundle into her hands. She looked down at the dark gray silk, and he lifted her chin again to meet her eyes.

"Dress, myshka." Then left stepped away and left her alone in the bathroom. She mutely followed his order, her mind flinching away from the scent and dark stains on her clothes. The gray silk turned out to be pajamas, just her size. They smelled like lavender.

She left her bloodied clothes on the floor and stepped into the bedroom. The carpet was plush under her bare feet. Dimitri waited for her there. His bodyguard was nowhere to be found. The comforter on the bed had been turned down.

He smiled at her, beckoning her to the small table with daisies. Food awaited her there, fruit and crackers and about four kinds of cheese, along with a pitcher of water. She had never been less hungry.

"You are hungry?" he asked.

She mutely shook her head, and he pressed a glass of water into her hand. "Drink."

She finished the glass in a few thirsty gulps and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Almost immediately, a warm, heavy feeling began to unfurl in her belly. Dimitri's eyes searched her face, and she felt her body begin to sway, her eyelids beginning to droop. The glass made impact on the soft carpet.

Her tongue felt heavy, even as a question pushed to the forefront of her clouded mind. "You… you dru…" Her knees buckled, and he caught her before she could embrace the soft carpet.

Her body pressed against the cloudlike mattress, and the weighted comforter wrapped her in security and warmth. She barely heard Dimitri's voice as shock, exhaustion, and the drug pushed her into unconsciousness.

"Sleep now. You will feel better in the morning."

* * *

A meaty, spicy scent greeted her when she finally stumbled out of the bedroom and down the hallway. She peeked at a sunset in progress through the glass doors, windows, and skylight, bathing the penthouse in its dying light. The apartment was all clean lines, much like the bedroom she'd slept in, with soft white carpet and gold-accented wallpaper. The furniture was neutral in color, but clearly expensive. She followed her nose to the kitchen. Dimitri was nowhere in sight, but a thin, blonde woman in a crisp black uniform was hard at work. Alexis approached her, mildly surprised to feel her feet bare warming on the tiled floor. Copper pans hung on the wall, and stainless steel appliances and fixtures winked at her from every angle.

Alexis thought of the meager kitchen in her apartment with Pi. The empty cupboards, chipped countertops and cold, worn linoleum. This place offered a kind of decadence she'd only ever imagined.

"Hello?" Alexis said to the cook, her voice rough with disuse."Will you help me?"

The woman ignored her, though Alexis could tell from the new tightness in her shoulders that she'd heard her.

"Is this where Dimitri lives?"

Alexis glanced down at the countertop as the woman kneaded breadcrumbs and ground beef together in a mixing bowl. Eggs, garlic, onion, and tomatoes sat in a neat line on the countertop, ready to be added to the mixture. Alexis' stomach cramped with hunger, and she licked her dry lips. The last time she'd eaten had been... days before. Rick had taken her to get a meatball sub. It felt like a lifetime ago. She wondered if she'd ever see him again... She shook the thought off. She'd already wasted too much time on regrets. "Is this—"

"Your favorite," a voice behind her responded.

Alexis whipped around, stepping back as Dimitri entered the kitchen, another man close behind him. The mobster was dressed in a new suit, and Alexis noticed a slight frown tug at his lips as he took in her appearance, her wrinkled pajamas and bedhead. "The meatloaf recipe from the nice caseworker in Santa Clara, I believe," he explained. "She made it for you and your foster family at Christmastime. You loved it so much you kept the recipe, even though you never learned how to cook."

Unease twisted in her belly, and she glanced back at the cook, now recognizing the slip of paper with ingredients and directions written on it. Her own handwriting. "You went through my things?" she asked.

"I wanted to know what you like." Dimitri shrugged, then gestured at the woman cooking. "Is this not a pleasant surprise?"

Alexis didn't respond. It felt a little silly that after everything he'd done to her, this small thing still felt like a violation. Every moment of the last two days had been a violation. When Alexis had woken up in that pretty bedroom, her first instinct had been to check her body for yet another violation. It wouldn't be the first time a strange man had tried to take what she hadn't given.

Dimitri hadn't touched her. He'd said her body didn't tempt him, and in that at least, he'd been true to his word. But that one piece of herself she'd been allowed to keep paled in comparison to everything he'd already taken from her. And even now, he was taking her private thoughts, her longtime preferences, pieces of her past that he had no reason to meddle with, and twisting them for his own purposes. She thought of the daisies on the table in the bedroom. Another favorite. "How did you know about the daisies?"

Dimitri smiled then, clearly pleased that she'd made the connection herself. "I need you to do something for me." The man behind him stepped forward, setting a laptop on the burnished wood table in the corner of the kitchen.

"What is it?" she asked, dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

"Call it a test. I want to see your abilities firsthand." He gestured for her to take a seat at the table, but she was frozen in place. This was it. Back to lying, back to stealing, back to all the things that were as easy as breathing—all the things she never wanted to do again.. Alexis felt like a noose had been placed around her throat.

"I don't know how," she said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Dimitri said.

"I don't know how."

He sighed, then spoke a few lines in Russian. The man behind him left the room, and the cook abandoned her post. Once again, Alexis was alone with the man who had murdered her best friend.

"Your friend said—" he began.

"We lied. I don't have information on you. I just told Gregor I did so he'd clear Pi's debts. And I can't do whatever it is you're going to ask me to do."

"You will not take this test?" he asked, for the first time looking unsure.

"I'm not useful to you. I never was." She drew in a ragged breath. "You should just get rid of me." Her heart banged against her ribcage, and she looked at the floor. She could feel Dimitri's eyes on her. Then she heard him laugh, and her shoulders curled forward in defeat.

He stepped close to her, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "Allow me to show you something." She watched him scroll through his videos until he found what he was looking for. He held out the device. "Press play."

"I don't—"

"Do it." His voice took on a sharp edge.

Hands shaking, Alexis followed his instruction. A pretty woman in blue scrubs waved at the camera, then shifted the focus over to the patient in the hospital bed. Alexis gasped. Kevin. It was Kevin, attached to tubes and monitors and looking only marginally improved from the bloodied, dying man he'd been in that old bathtub. He was alive. He was getting help...

And his nurse was under Dimitri's thumb.

"You sick—"

"Hush, myshka. Watch the movie," he said earnestly.

The shot changed to a familiar building, Kevin's apartment building. The man who worked in the convenience store across the street was filming the entrance to the building. Then video shifted again, showing a big room full of desks and with rooms and offices lining the wall. The camera zoomed in to read the nameplate on one of the desks. Detective Kevin Ryan. The video was from the precinct, though she couldn't tell who was taking it.

Tears slipped down her face as the video ended. Dimitri had Kevin. He could be killed at any time. He was trapped, and he didn't even know it.

Dimitri plucked the cell phone out of her hands. "Do you wish to take the test now?"

With a scream of fury, she lashed out at him, slapping, shoving, biting, and cursing, attacking every inch of him that she could reach. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, Dimitri had her bent over the kitchen table, her wrists pulled painfully high between her shoulder blades. "Stop fighting me, myshka. You are not going to win this one."

"You've taken everything from me!" she snarled, tears slipping down her cheeks and pooling on the kitchen table.

"And I will give you everything in return," he insisted. "Everything you've ever wanted. Now give up this fairy tale about right and wrong. Give it up and help me, and you will be rewarded beyond measure."

"I don't want—"

"Help me, or your detective friend will leave the hospital in a body bag."

"No!"

"Very well." He let go of her and reached into his pocket.. Alexis' vision tunneled to the phone in his hand.

"No," she said again, softer this time.

Dimitri ignored her, speaking rapid Russian into his cell phone.

"No!" She scrambled over to him, her knees buckling in panic. She grabbed his suit coat. Tears streamed down her face, and air sawed in and out of her lungs. "I'll do it. I'll do it. Please don't hurt him! Not again. Please!"

The call ended, and Dimitri pulled her to her feet. His arms wrapped around her, and he petted her hair, murmuring to her in Russian. She jerked away from his embrace, but he held her tight, forcing her to accept his attempt to comfort her. Gradually, her strength gave out. A sort of numbness settled over her and her tears dried up. By the time he led her back to the table, back to his "test," she barely felt anything at all.

He open the laptop, revealing a single file on the desktop. Dimitri reached around her to click open the file, and Alexis' heart stopped when she saw her own face staring back at her. Photocopies of her files from the precinct, no doubt. She looked up at Dimitri. "What is this?"

He tapped on the computer screen. "This is your test, myshka. Make her disappear."

* * *

"We found Crespo," Javier said. "He's dead."

Time came to a halt, and Kevin heard his heart monitor speed up once again. "What do you mean Pi's dead?" he asked. He locked eyes with Castle, and the writer's face paled, his jaw going slack.

"Half his brain is splattered across this apartment. You need me to paint a better picture for you?"

He imagined the wayward young man, with his deep attachment to Alexis and his now-fatal flaw. Christ. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to ask the question even though he was afraid of the answer. "And Alexis?"

"In the wind. Nobody here but a corpse." Javier sighed. "Do you have any idea where—"

"Dimitri took her." Kevin's mind was racing for possible solutions—but there was only one. "He's going to use her to strengthen his organization."

He'd heard the deal she'd made for him. Alone in the bathtub as he'd slowly bled out, Kevin had listened to the conversation that slipped through the paper-thin walls. Enough to know what Dimitri wanted from her, and that she was willing to give it—as long as Kevin was granted safe passed to a hospital.

You will belong to me, and you will make me a king.

But Dimitri had never been true to his word, and it was only through Kevin's own efforts that he'd ended up safe in the hospital. Now Pi was dead, which Kevin was certain was not part of her deal with the mobster. How else was Dimitri betraying her, hurting her?

"CSU's on the way—" Javier's voice cut out. "Hold on, it's Beckett. I need to take this. I'll call you if anything comes up."

"Thanks," Kevin managed. He ended the call and dropped his phone onto his lap.

"She's gone?" Castle asked, his eyes wide.

"She wasn't at the apartment." Kevin met Castle's eyes. "How did we ever think this would be simple?" he asked.

He rubbed his face. "We didn't. We were just trying to help." He stood up, and his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. "I'm gonna head back to the precinct… see if I can help at all."

"I thought Beckett banned you—"

"I can't just sit around while my—" The writer stopped himself, then cleared his throat. "While this case goes off the rails."

"Castle," Kevin's words stopped him in the doorway. "What aren't you telling me right now?"

For a moment, Kevin thought the man would open up and share the weight of whatever truth was crushing him down.

Instead, Castle affixed a smirk to his face, the twist in his lips not coming anywhere close to his panicked eyes. "You wouldn't believe me if I did tell you."

Kevin frowned in confusion. "Try me."

Castle hesitated, and Kevin's phone began ringing. Javi again. His stomach clenched. "You found something already?"

"No, we lost something." Javier almost snarled into the phone. "Alexis' files are gone."

"What?"

"Every electronic case file with her name on it, her birth records, juvy records, child services records… they're all gone. Someone took our hard copies, too."

"That's..." Kevin's head spun. "That's impossible."

"Believe it. The most important witness in this case just ceased to exist."

* * *

Author's Note: I hope you liked the new chapter. Please review!


	13. Chapter 13

In Pieces

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Once upon a time, back was she was still young enough to believe in the fairy tales her foster sisters told her, Alexis had dreamed of being rescued by a prince.

When her foster parents' vicious German shepherd chased her up a tree, she pretended it was a tower. When she was forced to do the housecleaning, she pretended she was serving seven dwarf men. And when she'd gotten threadbare hand-me-down clothes for Christmas and her "siblings," the birth children of her latest foster parents, got new toys, she'd thought of fairy godmothers and pumpkin carriages. Over and over, she told herself that her prince would come, that happily ever after was just a matter of time.

Leaning against the balcony of yet another executive suite at yet another five-star hotel, watching the sun dip below the city skyline, she couldn't help but think of that little girl. What would four-year-old Alexis think of her future self? Of the expensive gowns and five-star accommodations?

Years had passed since Alexis had believed in anything but her own raw, animalistic will to survive, but she had a feeling that the lost little girl from her childhood would call this happily ever after. It was everything she'd ever wanted: pretty things, a handsome prince, a place to belong.

And all it had cost was her soul.

"You are quiet tonight." Dimitri appeared beside her, offering a flute of champagne. She accepted the drink and downed it in a single gulp, ignoring his frown as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Thank God for smudge-proof lipstick.

She set the glass on the edge of the balcony, and her eyes flicked to the well-dressed men inside the penthouse who had spent the evening drinking and smoking cigars and congratulating themselves on their ever-expanding empires. "Don't have much to say to a group of arms dealers."

"They only have nice things to say about you."

Alexis turned away from him, and her hands rested on the balcony. "They think I'm your girlfriend. It'd be suicide to not kiss up to me."

He hummed in response, resting his hand on the small of her back as he whispered in her ear, "And how did they measure up?"

His breath washed over her neck, and she fought the urge to shudder. Her brain flicked through photograph memories of the men's accounts, the profiles she'd build on them, the tics in their gestures, the dynamics between opposing dealers who shared the market. She licked her lips, then took a breath. "If you demand an additional 2.6 mill, it'll start a bidding war. Reyes will win, and you'll make double. But…" she paused for a moment, running probabilities against what she'd learned about each of the dealers, a Magic 8 Ball for the worst of humanity, "Moreno doesn't like to lose. And he has the most to gain from this deal. Things could get ugly."

Dimitri mulled over her words. He brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek, a warm, indulgent smile spreading across his face. "When he is neutralized, clear his accounts for me, will you?"

"Are you…." she fumbled for words, his utter confidence making anxiety churn in her stomach. He never listened to her warnings. "Will you kill him?"

"If it comes to that, yes."

She looked back down at her hands, her white knuckles wrapped around the railing. She parsed through what she'd learned again, looking for a scenario that didn't end in a bloodbath.

"What is it?"

"I don't want you to kill anyone," she said quietly.

"It is kill or be killed in this business." He took her hands in his own, warming the chill that had sunk into her bones. "And you do not want to find out what these men will do to you if I am not standing in their way."

Alexis didn't respond, and he cupped her cheek. "If it comes to it, you will drain his accounts?" he pressed.

She nodded, her posture stiff.

The smile turned impossibly bright. "My myshka. You are perfection." Then he returned to his customers, leaving her alone on the balcony. Seven and a half minutes later, like a flawlessly timed performance, the men's voices raised inside the room. Alexis casually moved out of the way of the glass doors, situating herself behind a stone pillar. The voices crescendoed and then, with a few rounds of bullets, became silent.

She glanced around the pillar, back into the room, where Moreno and his entourage lay bleeding on the rug. Dimitri caught her eye, his gun still in hand, and winked. Alexis slipped her phone out of her clutch and began to run the code that would drain the dealer's accounts—and fill Dimitri's.

Once the transfer began, she sank to the concrete, rested her head against the pillar, and let her eyes slide back up to the brilliant shades in the cooling night sky. Gunshots echoed in her mind, and she saw Pi's frozen, brown eyes, Kevin's pale skin and bloodstained porcelain.

The first time Dimitri had performed this song and dance, she'd been sick all over her couture gown. The second and third times, she'd cried bitterly, had been inconsolable for days after, despite Dimitri's assurances. Now, Alexis' eyes were dry as she watched the sunset.

It wasn't until the sun was nothing more than a warm purple on the edge of the skyline that Dimitri's bodyguard came for her, holding out his hand. He led her through the suite, past the team cleaning up the evidence, down the private elevator and into the car that would take her back to the penthouse. Dimitri waited in the backseat of the town car, speaking enthusiastic Russian. Alexis buckled her seatbelt and let her head rest against the window, fighting the revulsion that churned her stomach and ground her teeth together.

Little Alexis had gotten the story all wrong: Dimitri was no prince, there was no castle to be found in his penthouse, or the revolving door of high-end suites with bloodstained carpet, and she was the farthest thing from a princess.

She was a villain, and nobody was coming to save her.

* * *

Alexis didn't recognize the girl in the mirror, the finely made-up face with its large, blue eyes, long, dark lashes and full, red lips. She didn't recognize her cheekbones or the brilliant whiteness of her smile, the stark fringe cut thickly across her forehead, the dark auburn lowlights, or the waves that stopped just past her shoulders.

 _Kukolka_ , Dimitri had called her when the stylist had finished her job. Pretty doll. From the moment she'd wiped her own slate clean, closed the door on the Alexis Castle part of her life, he'd been molding her. Into what, she still wasn't sure.

She fumbled through the stockpile of expensive beauty products on her bathroom counter until she found something resembling a facial soap. A few minutes later, the face in the mirror looked a bit more like the one she'd expected to see. Pale skin, dark circles beneath her eyes. It had taken the better part of a month for the bruise on her cheekbone to fade, and it was still sensitive to the touch.

This is what happens when you disrespect me.

Alexis blinked away the memories and continued her nighttime routine. Dressed in her silk pajamas, she sought refuge in her bed. The pillow-top mattress, thousand-count sheets, down pillows, and weighted comforter had made it her favorite place in the world, the only place in her life that she could have something resembling peace and quiet. She reached for the lamp on her bedside table, ready to switch off the light, when Dimitri sauntered into her bedroom, kicking off his shoes and slumping onto the covers next to her.

"I'm going to sleep," she announced.

"You look awake to me."

She turned on her side, rolling away from him. "I'm tired."

When she'd agreed to work for Dimitri, she'd never expected him to want to spend so much time around her. His moods ran hot and cold, but the one thing that remained constant was his need to babble at her. When he wasn't running a criminal empire, he was teaching her Russian, telling her stories, asking her to weigh in on inane topics like artificial intelligence or the Bolshevik Revolution or whether she thought Edward de Vere really wrote Shakespeare's plays.

She didn't know if it was part of his "master plan" to drive her insane, or if he just that lonely, but when Alexis wasn't playing the part of his hacker or his assumed-girlfriend, she was his unwilling friend. And if she hadn't been determined to string together a perfect web of evidence to take the Russian down, Alexis might have just offed herself and saved the trouble of listening to his inane babble.

"You are mad at me, myshka?"

She snorted. "Why in the world would I be mad at you?"

"I cannot imagine," he answered, his tone honest. "Have I not been generous enough to you? Before, you had nothing. Now you have everything. Just like I promised."

She sighed and sat up. A headache was beginning to bloom behind her temples. "If you're looking for gratitude, don't hold your breath.

"Ah. This is about tonight. You are angry that I had to kill that man."

"You didn't have to kill anyone," she snapped.

"I think you know that is not true."

"You just like killing, don't you? It doesn't matter who they are or whether or not you're actually accomplishing anything by killing them—"

"So you are saying that some deaths are justified then?" He raised his eyebrows.

"I—No. No, I'm saying you're indiscriminate. You kill for the sake of killing."

He rolled his eyes. "You've never committed violence, myshka? We both know you are not so innocent."

Dread wrapped its icy fingers around her heart. "What are you talking about?"

"You tried to kill a man once."

"How did…? Did Pi tell you?"

"Tell me, where do those morals of yours fit with attempted murder?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He petted her hair. "I agree with your decision. I would have tried to kill him, too. Men like him deserve to die."

"You're like him," she said without thinking. "You hurt people—"

In a flash, Dimitri's weight bore down on her, and he gripped her jaw so tightly she could feel fresh bruises forming beneath her skin. "I do not hurt children! Even I have my limits."

Alexis felt tears welling in her eyes, and his grip softened. He rolled back to his original place on the comforter. "Myshka, you did the right thing. It is only a shame that he survived."

"How could Pi have told you that?" she asked quietly. "He was my best friend. He knew…." her voice trailed off, and tears slipped down the sides of her face.

"He was not a good friend."

"He was an addict. It wasn't—"

"He sold you for drugs. You are better off without him, I think."

"He didn't—"

"He told me everything about you. Your darkest secrets. Your pathetic history. Your treasured memories. All to feed his addiction. No, myshka, I am not sorry for him. Or you. You are better off now," he repeated.

"Trapped, isolated, and working for a murderer," she scoffed. "Yes, I can see how this is better."

"I wouldn't betray you like that."

"You almost killed me! I have the scar I prove it."

He waved away her accusation. "It was a misunderstanding. I never would have truly harmed you."

"You have harmed me, Dimitri."

He propped himself up with one arm. "And despite all of that, you still find ways to get what you want."

She frowned at him. "What?"

"You think I do not know about your little stunt with the cameras? If you get caught, this will not end happily for any of us."

Alexis bit her lip, a familiar wave of frustration washing over her. Of course she hadn't pulled one over on Dimitri. Of course she couldn't already be finding blind spots. After she'd agreed to work for him, it hadn't taken long for him to start trusting her with technology. Computers. Cell phones. She'd thought he'd grown complacent, that it was evidence of his trust in her. Clearly that wasn't the case.

"How did you know—"

"I know everything you do. I know what you eat, when you sleep, and when you start hacking traffic cameras and surveillance cameras to stalk your precious detective. You are fooling yourself if you think otherwise."

Alexis looked away, her headache was intensifying with the new development. "I had to make sure you kept your word."

Kevin walked with a cane now. He looked exhausted, and aged beyond his years, but he was alive. He was breathing and walking and living. Back to his old life. In one of the recent films, he'd been with a pretty woman with dark hair. Maybe the sister he'd talked about, or his boss, or maybe she was someone new altogether. Someone who wouldn't break his heart or leave him bloodied.

But as much as she loved watching Kevin on the surveillance videos, as much comfort as she garnered from physical proof that he was alive and mostly well. Her feelings weren't the only reason she'd been watching him. She'd been trying, unsuccessfully, for a couple of weeks to identify Dimitri's men in any of the videos. If she could figure out who was following Kevin, perhaps it could help the case.

Dimitri patted her hand. "It is time to move on, don't you think?"

Alexis started. "What do you mean?"

"You make big sacrifices for the people you love, and I didn't see you kissing your friend Pi on the mouth." He shrugged. "Maybe you think you love this detective?"

She threw off his hand. "What the hell do you know about love?"

"You think I've never loved someone?"

Alexis snorted in response, making her thoughts very clear on the matter.

"It never would have worked. He is a fish and you are a bird. Whatever you two had, it was not love."

She rolled back over, tugging her blankets up to her chin. "Good night, Dimitri."

He petted her hair. "Even monsters can feel love, myshka. And even pretty little dolls can hurt and steal and kill. The world is not so black and white."

She kept her eyes closed, felt his weight lift, and listened as he clicked off her bedside lamp and padded across the soft carpet to the door. His words echoed in her head long after he'd left her alone.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Kevin stood in the doorway to Captain Gates' office, mentally preparing himself for bad news. Beckett was already in the office, watching Kevin with something close to regret.

Gate gestured to the seat in front of her desk. "Take a seat, detective."

With a deep breath, Kevin hobbled forward, leaning heavily on the cane that had become his best friend in the eight weeks since he'd been discharged from the hospital. Optimistic as his nurse had been, his leg was healing slowly. The doctor informed him that both the blood loss and the amount of time the bullet had been lodged in his leg had severely damaged his muscles. It would be a long road to a full recovery.

So Kevin attended physical therapy twice a week, walked with a cane, and took the edge off of the almost-constant pain in his leg with over-the-counter meds. If his probationary status hadn't already tied him to a desk, his injury certainly would have.

He carefully sat into the chair in front of Gates' desk, then flashed a small smile at Beckett. "Do you need to take my statement again, Sir?" he asked, cutting straight to the point.

She shook her head. "I wanted to update you on the precinct's attempts to apprehend Mr. Abramovich."

Kevin frowned. The twist of her lips told him everything he needed to know: Dimitri got off.

"When we questioned Mr. Abramovich, he had an airtight alibi—"

"He's lying. I saw him shoot me. I saw—"

"I know, Detective, but as long as he has an alibi, and you don't have any witnesses to back up your allegations, there's nothing we can do. I'm so sorry."

Kevin shook his head, rubbing his face in agitation. "Pretty convenient that all the witnesses are either dead or missing, huh?"

"Abramovich's lawyer said the same thing," Beckett said. "Ryan, if you continue to pursue charges against Dimitri, he's likely to sue for harassment. It's up to you, but I don't think you're going to win this one."

"Okay," he said, his voice hollow. "Thanks for letting me know."

He made to stand, but Captain Gates held out her hand. "While I have you, Ryan, I wondered if we could talk a bit more about the statement you gave concerning your involvement in this case?"

Kevin nodded and sat back, steeling himself for yet another interrogation about his involvement with Alexis. About how he'd ended up half dead on the banks of the Hudson. About how their lead person of interest in an increasingly complex case had simply disappeared.

"Detective, your wife passed away… when was it, two years ago?"

He blinked. "I don't see what that has to do with our investigation."

"And according to your statement, this woman, Alexis Castle, she was the first woman you've been… intimate with since the death of your wife?"

"That's a pretty personal question, Sir."

"And this has turned into a very personal case for you. I'm just trying to put the pieces together.

"Wait," Kevin interjected, "you think she took advantage of me?"

"Why else would she seek refuge with the detective on her case?"

"She didn't know about Jenny. She… she trusted me to not hurt her."

Gates frowned. "Then why would you knowingly house a criminal for a month, a criminal whose case you were supposed to be solving, if she wasn't taking advantage of your vulnerability?"

Kevin was silent. Chalking up his and Alexis' time together to nothing more that her own manipulations was abhorrent to him. But the alternative…

"This doesn't look good, Ryan," Gates said, her voice softer. "This could end your career. And assuming we ever catch this girl, all she has to do is imply some kind of quid pro quo—"

His teeth gritted together. "I never touched her like that. Not after I found out the truth."

"You're a male detective for the NYPD, and you housed a twenty-one-year-old female, a witness and person of interest in this case, for a month. You and this girl have an intimate history, and while she was vulnerable, you were in a position of power," Gates explained. "It's your word against hers. The media and the courts would have a field day dragging your name through the mud over this, Ryan. I don't want to see that happen to you. So now I need you to give me a reason to go to bat for you."

"So I'm either a heartbroken sucker or sexual predator? Is that it? Are those my options?" he snapped.

"Hey." Kate placed a hand on his shoulder. "We're trying to help you."

Kevin pulled himself up to stand, leaning heavily on the chair as he did so. He leaned on his cane when he finally was standing, his thigh was on fire from the exertion. "Fine. Make up whatever story you think will serve this case. But I'm not going on record and lying about Alexis, or my intentions, or what Jenny's death means to me. The truth is, Alexis needed help, so I helped her. She's not the bad guy here."

"She's not innocent, either," Kate reminded him.

"Thank you for your time, Detective Ryan," Gates said solemnly.

Kevin left the office, but not before words like "compromised" and "con artist" slipped into his ears. He collapsed into his chair at his desk, then spun around to look at the murder board. Ivanova, Dimitri, Officer Morgan, and Pi's pictures were placed up, as well as a picture of Alexis smiling shyly with a burger in her hands. Castle had taken the picture on one of their "field trips," and ever since their hard copy files had been stolen and their electronic files had been destroyed, they'd had to improvise where Alexis was concerned.

Even with the missing pieces, even with Dimitri's so-called alibi, they still had two dead bodies. Morgan hadn't been seen since he'd left the ER the night he'd tried to kill Kevin. Kevin was almost certain Morgan's body was at the bottom of the Hudson now. Dimitri didn't seem like the type to accept failure.

Javier brushed past Kevin's desk, dropping a white paper bag from a nearby fast food joint on the way. "Thanks," Kevin said.

"How'd it go?"

"I'm still employed, if that's what you're wondering."

Espo's lips turned up into a smile. "That's great news."

"Yeah." Kevin reached into the bag and pulled out his salad, absentmindedly picking at it with his plastic fork. "Hey, Javi, why do you think I did it?"

His partner cocked his head to the side. "Did what?"

Kevin gestured to the murder board. "All of this… Letting Alexis stay with me. Keeping it a secret…."

Javier shrugged. "You've always been a sucker for damsel in distress."

"So you think she's guilty?"

"I'm not ruling it out," Esposito said evenly. "And considering how you and Castle are convinced she's an innocent bystander in all of this, it's probably for the best. At least one of us needs to stay objective."

"So you think she… manipulated me, or something? You think I'm just some sad, lonely widower who got conned?"

Javier frowned. "What's this about?"

"That's one of Gates' theories. Hell, that's her most flattering theory."

Javier was silent.

Kevin forced himself to ask the question that had been hanging over his head since he'd come back to work. "Does everyone else think I'm compromised?"

Esposito set his burger down. "All anyone knows is that you fell off the grid and turned up half dead a day later. And that Morgan's dirty and somehow involved in all of this. Nobody knows what to think."

"So they just go along with whichever rumor suits them?"

"Kev, how did you think this would end? Did you imagine you could keep this secret without other people wanting to know why?"

"She was going to confess," he insisted. "I was going to bring her here to give her statement."

"Yeah, only she wanted to make a quick pit stop first—"

"To say goodbye to her best friend! I'm not an idiot, Javi, despite what everyone else seems to think."

Javier sighed. "I get that you're angry. And I don't blame you. But you need to accept the possibility that other people aren't going to see this the same way you do. And as far as you've been truthful about it, these are the facts: She ran out on you after you hooked up; she assaulted you when we came around to arrest Crespo; she showed up on your doorstep when she had no other options; she slept on your couch, ate your food, and let you take care of her for a month; and then when you started to push her to come forward, she makes this point to go visit her friend, disappears into another room with him, and when she comes out, she's upset and wants to leave, and you get shot."

"This isn't some conspiracy."

"You said Morgan put a bag over your head and threw you in the back of his car until they got to the safehouse. And then they let you bleed out for hours on end, and during all of that, there was no Alexis in sight."

"They drugged her. She was unconscious. They were keeping her somewhere else."

"Do you know that? Did you see her even once between when they shoved that bag over your head and when she finally found you in the tub?"

Kevin shook his head. "I heard her bargain for me. She made a deal for my safety."

"Maybe acting runs in the family. You said yourself that you were barely lucid by that point."

"You think she killed Pi, too? He was her best friend."

"And from the sound of it, he was a pretty crappy friend. Maybe she wanted to cut him loose."

"I can't believe you're saying this."

"Kev, I want to believe you. I do. But I need you to accept that it's possible there's a whole other story happening here. She's been in the wind for two months now. And not three days after you get shot and Pi gets a bullet in his head, she disappears from record. Do you know of anyone else involved in this case who is capable of hacking our files? The California state birth records? She did it, man. At minimum, we can safely assume that she was the one to wipe that slate clean. And why would she do that if she didn't want to hide?"

"Because Dimitri made her. Because she's our key witness and if she doesn't exist, then she can't testify!"

Javier nodded. "That's true. But it's also possible that she's been playing you from day one."

"Okay, what's her motivation for all of this? She wasn't faking sepsis when she showed up on my doorstep."

"Maybe she and Dimitri were going through a power struggle. I don't know. But I do know that she was mixed up with him before this case started, and she's presumably still." Javier sighed, "And if you can't look at this objectively, if you can't even fathom the possibility that I might be right, then you are compromised."

Kevin was speechless. Fury boiled in his gut, but he forced himself to take deep breaths. To not lash out at one of the few people in the world who believed him. "So what should I be focusing on right now?"

Javier nodded at Kevin's leg. "Taking care of yourself. You shouldn't even be here, spending as much time on your feet as you have been."

"I have to work," Kevin said with finality. "I can't just sit at home." Alexis' thing were still there, packed in a bag. Her books and notes. were stacked on the kitchen table and on the floor next to the couch. The coffeemaker she'd repaired still kept watch on the kitchen counter. Her strawberry shampoo was still in the shower. Everywhere he looked, there were reminders of her. But she was gone. It was like a pathetic echo of losing Jenny all over again.

"Kev, you need to lay low for a while. This guy tried to have you killed, and he's still walking free. You're on thin ice with Gates, and forgive me for being so blunt, but now is not the time to lose your medical. You understand me? The best thing you can do right now is to take care of yourself. Let us do our jobs. Trust us to take care of this for you. Trust us to have your best interests at heart."

"Okay. I'll try to ease up."

Javier smiled. "And maybe see if you can get Castle to do the same, huh? He's been chomping at the bit since Alexis dropped off the grid. I think Beckett's suspended his access to the precinct since he's been getting underfoot so much."

Kevin stood up and slid his jacket on over his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" Javier asked.

"To go talk to Castle. Let me know if anything come up, okay?"

"Will do. Be safe, brother."

"Back at you."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please review. :)


	14. Chapter 14

In Pieces

Chapter Fourteen

* * *

Kevin knocked on the door to the loft, and a harried looking Rick Castle answered the door shortly thereafter. "Any news?" the writer asked in lieu of an actual greeting.

Kevin limped into the loft, slipping his coat from his shoulders. "Dimitri's getting off. Apparently he has an airtight alibi."

"For the exact time he shot you?"

Kevin gestured to his thigh and the cane he still leaned on for support. "Must have been my imagination. And Gates told me that if I keep trying to press charges, they're likely to sue for harassment."

Castle cursed. "I'm sorry." He writer rubbed at his face. He looked terrible: circles hugged his eyes, which were bloodshot. His face was pale. His hair looked like he'd been tugging at it. "I can't believe how much this has gotten away from us."

"You and me both." Kevin took a seat the kitchen bar. "I haven't seen you around the bullpen very much lately."

"Beckett banned me."

"Again?"

"Said if I cared about our relationship, then I'd back off and let her clean up my mess." The writer shook his head with a sigh. "As if it was that easy."

"So let me guess: you've left the bullpen, but you're still working the case?"

Castle shrugged. "I don't see that I have another choice."

"You could let go of this case," Kevin suggested, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. Two men dead, one of them barely an adult. Alexis still gone…. It went against every natural instinct to suggest that Castle walk away, but this wasn't just any case. Hadn't been for longer than Kevin cared to admit.

"That's not going to happen," Castle said firmly.

"I know I've asked already, but… I mean, I know why I'm doing what I'm doing. I know why I'm putting my neck on the line for her. But you don't have to. You don't have the baggage with her that I do."

"Baggage? That's what you're chalking it up to?" His voice was almost a snarl. "She sold her future for you and you're saying that it's just baggage?"

Kevin held his hands up. "That's not what I mean. You know I care about her. You know what she means to me."

"Do I? I don't think I've seen the two of you in the same room since she showed up sick on your doorstep."

"And?"

"You told me you met Alexis the day Beckett kicked you off the case for punching a suspect. Jenny's birthday, right?"

Kevin cocked his head to the side. "Where are you headed with this, Castle?"

"Maybe that so-called baggage the two of you have has more to do with your unresolved grief than anything resembling genuine feelings for Alexis."

Kevin blinked, feeling like he'd just been sucker-punched. "So, what? You think I was using her?"

"Maybe."

Castle, I never touched her like that after the first night." Rage burned in his chest. He was so goddamn tired of all of these people, his peers, suggesting that he was some kind of predator. "Christ, Castle, you know me! You've known me for years, and you think I'd—"

"I'm not saying you took advantage. I'm saying maybe she was the distraction you needed from the last two years."

Kevin shook his head. "She means a hell of a lot more to me than just a distraction, and if you think I'd use her for anything—anything at all—then you don't know me like you think you do."

The writer shrugged, clearly unaffected by Kevin's display of emotion. "This isn't about baggage, Ryan. This is about responsibility. I feel responsible for her."

"That's my point, Castle. You don't have to. I mean, you've already done good by her. You don't owe her anything."

"Yes, I do!" the writer almost snarled. Again, Kevin saw the desperation, the impatience that had been eating at the man since Alexis disappeared. "I owe her everything, Ryan. And I'm not going to just let go of this case because it's hard."

"What's going on, Castle?" Kevin asked. "What aren't you telling everyone?"

"Since when are you interested in just leaving this case alone? After everything you've done for her, after everything that filthy Russian has done to you personally, you're just going to roll over and give up?"

Kevin shook his head. "That's not what's happening here. I don't want you to lose as much as I have over this case. I'm trying to help."

"If you want to help, you'll come with me to the Viridian Hotel."

Kevin blinked. "What? Why?"

Castle beckoned him into the office, waiting for Kevin to hobble his way over before showing him the electronic murder board he'd set up. "Wow, Castle. You really haven't given this case a break."

The writer pointed to a picture of Dimitri projected onto the wall. "The Viridian Hotel is owned by one of his shell corporations. As far as I can tell, he's got a half dozen or so of these hotels across the city. Word has it that the Viridian is where he does business in broad daylight, if you know what I mean."

"You want to track down a mobster with a get-out-of-jail-free card?" Kevin asked. "Do you want to help me get sued for harassment?"

"No, I won't mention you at all. I just want to talk to him. You can stay in the car. I just… if something happens to me, then someone else should be there to tell Beckett, okay?"

"This is the dumbest idea you've ever had."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

Kevin sighed. "Fine."

Castle nodded his thanks. "Let's go then."

"Right now?"

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?"

Kevin shook his head, and Castle grabbed his keys. "Then let's go."

Kevin mulled over the writer's words on the elevator ride down to the ground floor. "Castle, for what it's worth. It's not just about baggage for me, either." Kevin licked his lips. "When she made the deal for my life, she told me that she could have loved me. I..." he paused, letting the words hang heavy on the tip of his tongue before forcing them through his teeth. "I think I could have loved her, too."

Castle patted Kevin on the shoulder. "So let's bring her home."

* * *

Castle stomped into the hotel bar with one purpose and one purpose only: to get answers. So when he saw the Russian sitting at a white-clothed table near the back of the restaurant, he didn't let anything stand in his way. Not, the maitre d' and certainly not the bodyguards flanking either side of the Russian's table. Castle just barely bit back a snarl as the Dimitri's dark eyes landed on him as he approached.

"Do you have an appointment?" one of the bodyguards asked, stepping into Castle's trajectory. The writer sidestepped the body guard, and took a seat at the table. A gun cocked behind him, and he felt cold steel pressing against the back of his head. That would be Tweedle Dum.

"Mr. Abramovich, I think you know who I am. I certainly know who you are, so we can skip the introductions and get to what it is I'm here for," Castle said conversationally, but with a razor-sharp edge to his words. "I'm looking for someone. I think you might know what happened to her."

Dimitri cocked his head to the side, regarding the writer with narrowed eyes. "Yes, I know who you are. I am a big fan." He smiled with contempt clear in his eyes. "But I think perhaps you are mistaken. Do I look like a police officer to you, Mr. Castle? I suggest you file a missing person's report."

Castle laughed, a desperate, furious sort of laugh. "Well, that's the thing. She's not a person. Not anymore. You can't file a report for someone who doesn't exist. And I think you know something about that, too."

Dimitri's smug expression pulled upward into a full smirk. "You are confusing fact and fiction."

"I know you have her," Castle snarled, and Dimitri's bodyguards yanked him back as his body pitched forward. "I know you're using her. And I know you killed that young man. I know a lot about you, Dimitri Abramovich. I know things that maybe you wouldn't like the press or the police to hear."

With a sigh, Dimitri tipped back his glass, finishing his scotch, and then patted his mouth with a napkin. He stood, and Castle noticed that the younger man stood a full three or four inches taller than him.

"Mr. Castle, I'm sure I do not know what it is you are talking about. But I do know of several parties who would be interested to learn about why a millionaire writer, a known bachelor and playboy, is approaching a…" Dimitri paused, "a man of a certain reputation, and asking for a young redhead." Dimitri patted his arm condescendingly. "People may not draw the most flattering conclusions."

Fury burned through him, and Castle didn't even have time to think. Before he was aware of anything beyond his own righteous anger, his fist had plowed into Dimitri's nose, and he had the mobster by the throat—ready to deliver another blow, or simply choke the life out of him, Castle didn't know.

Dimitri's bodyguards were on him then, pulling him off of the younger man, yanking his arms tight behind his back. Somewhere behind him, he heard a voice on the phone with the police. Castle couldn't bring himself to care.

He grinned at the mobster, who was staunching his nosebleed with a fine, linen napkin and cursing in Russian. "If you think I give a rat's ass about what people think, you've got another thing coming. Oh, and I never said she had red hair."

The mobster frowned, speaking in low Russian to his bodyguards as they flanked him out of the bar. The manic grin stayed on Castle's face long after the police had booked him for assault.

* * *

"What could you have possibly been thinking?" Beckett demanded.

After Castle had been booked, she'd gotten word of what he'd done and had him transferred to the 12th Precinct and put in interrogation. She'd let him stew there for the better part of three hours before collecting herself enough to question him. Kevin had thought it was for the best that they'd both had time to cool, but judging by Beckett's pinched expression and the tired frustration etched into the lines of the writer's face, it wouldn't take much for an argument to ensue.

"Why didn't you try to talk him down?" Javier asked Kevin from their front-row seats in observation.

"I did. Several times, actually. Obviously I wouldn't have let him go in there if I'd known he was planning to punch a mobster in the face." Kevin adjusted his weight on his bad leg. "Still, I can't say I'm sorry for Dimitri."

"Do you have any idea what this could do to our case against him?" Beckett continued on the other side of the glass.

"What case?" Castle spat. "Last I hear, he's getting off for all his crimes."

"And thanks to your little stunt, we'll have to have irrefutable evidence to nail him now." She smacked her palm on the table. Her face was white with anger. "You don't think I care about what he did to Ryan? Do you don't think I care about getting justice for that kid he probably murdered?"

"If we can get Alexis away from him, she'll give us the evidence we need," Castle insisted. "That's all I was trying to do. He as good as admitted that she was with him, Kate."

Kate sighed and shook her head. "I'm almost positive she's been with him. But that doesn't necessarily mean what you want it to mean, Castle. And that doesn't mean that we can count on her for evidence."

"You think she's working with Dimitri? You're not even going to give her the benefit of the doubt?"

"She lived with Kevin for a month and barely said a word about the organization," Beckett reminded him. "I think it's worth considering the possibility that she's not a victim here."

Castle flew off the handle at that, standing upright and shoving his chair back. The metal feet screeched against the cold tile linoleum. "You are unbelievable! Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"I'm not saying she's guilty, Castle."

"You're certainly not inclined to believe she's innocent, either."

"Why are you so protective of this girl? You barely know her. If this was any other case, you'd be spouting off theories about her being the murderer all along and—"

"She's my daughter!"

Kate stopped, her eyes widening, and Kevin saw the color drain from Castle's face. He slumped back into his seat. Kevin and Javier locked eyes for a moment, both of them stunned into silence.

"What?" Beckett asked, her voice weak.

"About twenty-two years ago, I had a fling with a struggling actress named Meredith Harper. Nine months later, she gave birth to a baby girl and gave her up for adoption. She named her Alexis Castle," the writer said, his voice empty, like he was telling a story he already knew by heart. "I had no idea until I met Alexis. And even then… I didn't think it could be possible. But she looks so much like Meredith, and the timing was right, and her last name... "

Beckett shook her head. "That doesn't necessarily mean—"

"I stole hair out of her brush one day when I was over at Ryan's. I had it tested. She's mine, Kate. She's my daughter. I've missed twenty-one years of her life. And she's been through hell, thinking she was orphaned, growing up in the system…" his voice broke. "Every single thing she'd been through should never have happened. I wasn't there for her. I failed her. And I'm not going to make that mistake again."

Kate moved closer to the writer, resting her hand on his shoulder. "Castle, don't hate me for asking this, but is it possible that she's trying to trick you, or—"

"She doesn't know," he snapped. "I never got the chance to tell her."

She took her hand off his shoulder, and silence set in between the two of them

"Do you want kids?" she asked, no longer sounding like a detective questioning a suspect.

"I didn't think so," he admitted. "But now… I want her back." He rubbed his face, and his lower lip trembled. "He's hurting her, Kate. I know he is. I know she wouldn't choose this for herself. And don't want to lose her before I even get a chance to know her."

Kate pulled up a seat next to the writer, letting him rest his head in the crook of her neck, and Javier tugged on Kevin's arm. "We should go," he said quietly.

"Did you know?" Javier asked him when they'd returned to their desks.

Kevin shook his head. "No." His brain spun with random pieces of information, observations he'd catalogued between the writer and his redheaded houseguest, the nature of their friendship, the barely concealed fury that had haunted each of Castle's steps since Alexis fell off the grid. He thought of Alexis' history, the loneliness of it all, the abuse, the way she'd made her way in the world with only her wits to guide her. This changed everything. For Alexis. For Castle. For their whole case. She wasn't just a suspect anymore.

Javier sighed. "This case just got a lot more complicated."

* * *

Alexis was immersed in the accounts listed on the laptop, her fingers flying over the keys, shifting the numbers on the screen with a lightning precision that only existed in those moments of panic and stress.

Dimitri would be back soon, and according to her records, the tech guy in charge of making sure she was behaving herself would be scanning through her remote files sometime within the hour. Time wasn't on her side: she needed to finish the transactions, log her findings, and erase any breadcrumbs she'd left along the way. If all went according to plan, if her predictions were correct—and they were about 60:40 with anything relating to Dimitri—by the time he figured out what she was up to in those stolen hours on the laptop, she'd have enough evidence lumped together and enough cash piled up to kill two birds with one stone.

She was closing out the windows and covering her tracks when she heard the door to the penthouse swing open with a loud thud. She just managed to open her decoy browser, a partially encrypted profile on a trafficker that Dimitri was considering doing business with, when the mobster himself rounded the corner.

She pretended to be absorbed in her work, taking an extra two breaths before she noticed him. He yanked the laptop out of her hands anyway. "What are you doing?" he snapped, clicking through windows with agitation.

He didn't look his best. Blood stained his shirt, and his nose was swollen. There were purple marks under his eyes.

"Did you break your nose?" Alexis asked, her eyes wide. As far as she knew, he always looked impeccable. His temper knew no limits, was barely controlled on even a good day, but he wouldn't have a single wrinkle in his shirt while he raged, not a line hair out of place. Each and every time he let loose, Alexis was glad to only rarely be on the receiving end. When Dimitri was in a bad mood, things tended to get bloody.

He rolled his eyes and took a seat next to her. "Yes, myshka. I broke my own nose. It is a fun thing for me."

"What happened? Where were your guards?"

"Do not pretend like you care about what happens to me. You and I both know better." He kept clicking through her windows, pulling up her browser history. Alexis felt a glow of satisfaction. His tech guy knew enough to catch her if she wasn't careful, but hiding her activities from Dimitri was like hiding candy from a blind child. "You have not mentioned Richard Castle to me," he continued.

Alexis froze, then, as quickly as she could, shrugged. "The writer?"

"He gave me this," he pointed at his own face," when he came to my hotel and started asking about you. Why haven't you told me about him? Who is he to you?"

Alexis sighed, years of practice at lying the only way she kept the fear and dread off of her face. "He works with Kevin."

Dimitri looked at her skeptically and set the laptop on the coffee table. "A writer works with a detective?"

"He shadows one of the other detectives on Kevin's team. It's for his books." Alexis shrugged. "Anyway, I've heard stories, but I don't really know him. I've never met him before."

"Then why was he willing to track me down to my shell company and hit me because of you?"

"I don't know."

Dimtri gripped her chin and leaned in close. He wasn't as joyful and upbeat as he usually was in her presence. More than anything, he looked pissed off. Like he was looking for someone to take out his frustration on. "Myshka, if you are lying to protect him, you must know I will find out."

She tried to shake her head, but his grip wouldn't allow it. "I'm not lying. I don't know him. And I don't know why he messed with you today. Rich and famous people are crazy, right? Maybe… Maybe he—"

His hand released her chin, then slipped down to her throat. His fingers wrapped around her neck in warning, cutting off her air, and Alexis' heartbeat skipped up. She tried to push him away, but he pulled her against him like a rag doll, his chest against her back, his other arm like a vice across her chest, keeping her arms trapped in front of her. He whispered to her, his breath hot over the shell of her ear. "If he tries to take you from me, I will kill him. There is no escaping this. It is better that you accept that now."

Alexis shook her head, her words caught her throat. Panic was a thrumming beat in her chest, and her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen. She tried to jerk away from him, to loosen his grip, but he didn't move an inch and seconds slogged on as he strangled her.

Dimitri waited until spots had started to appear in her vision to finally release her and shoved her unceremoniously back onto the cushions. She gasped, pulling in air, her body limp and her mind spinning with the rush of fresh oxygen. Dimitri stood up, brushing off his stained shirt and heading into his bedroom. "Do not lie to me again."

Alexis watched him go, still gasping for air, her fingertips gently pressing around the ring of bruises he'd left on her neck.

* * *

The secret was out. And no one seemed to know what to make of it. Kevin certainly didn't.

He'd pushed around case files on Pi, on Ivanova, on what little they'd dredged up about Dimitri, the syndicate, and his more legal business ventures. Kevin kept a secret notebook full of information on Alexis, a veritable page of word vomit, everything he remembered from her case files, everything she'd ever told him, everything he'd observed, both from her stay in his apartment and his long-ago venture into hers. Afraid of the compilation growing legs and walking away the same way Alexis' original case files had, Kevin took it home with him to his empty apartment and brought it back with him to work each day. He sat at his kitchen island, eating home-cooked superfood meals for one while he flipped through the notebook, occasionally adding little details as they occurred to him.

He had a list of facts a mile long and a list of assumptions twice that. And yet they were no closer to finding her, to obtaining justice, or even to determining who had killed Ivanova, the inciting incident of their never-ending case.

Fact: Pi was framed for the murder of Ivanova.

Assumption: Dimitri framed Pi for the murder, knowing that Alexis had dirt on Dimitri and that she would come to Pi's rescue.

Dimitri had never expected Kevin to come into Alexis' life. And after she'd narrowly escaped him on the streets of New York, Dimitri had never expected her to spend a month in hiding while her friend was in protective custody.

Once Alexis disappeared again, Dimitri got in with the cop on Pi's protective order. Turned him, and then let Pi do what he did best: screw up his life for drugs. Dimitri waited and watched and planned for the moment when Alexis would show back up. He'd been playing the long game, and all along, even when Alexis had thought she was safe, a noose was tightening.

Fact: Dimitri had shot Kevin. Had let him bleed out in a bathtub and then sent him off with Morgan to die. There were no witnesses, save Pi, Morgan, Alexis, and Kevin himself. Pi was dead. Morgan hadn't been seen since the night he'd left the ER after failing to kill Kevin. Alexis had been missing for even longer. The NYPD and various government organizations had experienced the biggest security breach in their respective histories.

Assumption: Morgan was dead. Dimitri had killed Pi. And Alexis had been forced to keep her deal with Dimitri by cleaning her slate and starting fresh.

Despite the fact that Kevin had never once seen her touch his computer, his cell phone, or anything more electronically complicated than his television or coffee maker, Alexis was brilliant hacker. Worth bringing under the NYPD's wing, if they ever got the opportunity. Kevin wanted to believe that there was a future for the redhead, and that desire to believe was the only thing keeping him going when it seemed everything else was falling apart.

Fact: In the two months since his life had imploded, two major gangs had undergone a power struggle, and five notorious dealers were missing, presumed dead. Incredible amounts of money had gone missing along the way. Rumors were circulating about the Odessa syndicate and its crazy leader.

Assumption: Dimitri was expanding his control, his criminal kingdom. And he was using Alexis to do it.

Fact: Alexis was twenty-one. From California. Raised in the system. Had more ex-foster parents and ex-caseworkers than Kevin had ex-girlfriends. Went to juvie at seventeen. Convicted for assaulting her foster father, who was later convicted for manslaughter. Never graduated high school. Bookish. Highly intelligent. Had a history of making deals to help the few people in the world she cared about. She'd allegedly stolen intel on Dimitri and allegedly broken into a half dozen agencies and stolen or deleted information.

Assumption: She was a young genius who'd almost exclusively seen the worst of humanity. With no prospects, she'd picked up hacking to pay the bills.

Fact: She was Castle's daughter. And the writer had assaulted the head of the Russian mafia in a reckless attempt to find out where she was.

Assumption: Kevin had no idea if she knew the truth about Castle, but now Dimitri would have to wonder why a millionaire writer would care or even know about his new protege.

Fact: She was the first woman he'd slept with since Jenny. She'd soothed the pain in his psyche with her warmth and kindness. He'd been enamoured with her about five minutes after meeting her. She'd drugged him when he'd searched her apartment. She also kept him from hurting himself when the drugs knocked him out. When she'd run into trouble, she'd come to him for safety. While under his care, she'd spent most of her time sleeping, reading, and fixing things around his apartment. She was shy around him in a way he hadn't seen the night they'd met. She'd kept things close to her chest, but she hadn't stolen from him. She hadn't threatened him. She hadn't hurt him or damaged his property. She'd made a deal with the devil to keep him safe. She'd told him that she could have loved him.

Fact: He could have loved her, too.

He didn't know what to make of all that.

"How's it coming?" Beckett took a seat next to him on the edge of his desk. He'd been alternately flipping through notes in his book, writing on the murder board, and mulling through all the puzzle pieces on their case.

"It's not." Kevin rubbed his face, glancing at the clock on the wall that told him it was long past dinnertime. "What are you still doing here?"

"Same as you. Trying to figure out what the hell to make of all this."

"How's Castle holding up?"

Kate frowned. "When I talked to him two days ago, he seemed to be… coping, I guess. He's told Martha now, too. I don't think she knows how to process this."

"Is Dimitri gonna press charges?"

"For now, I don't think so. That almost makes me feel worse about it."

"You think he has other plans for Castle." It wasn't a question.

"I'm sure of it," Kate admitted. "I told him he needed to leave town for a while. Maybe spend a month writing somewhere. He wouldn't budge. Maybe he'll listen if you're the one to suggest it?"

"I don't see why he'd listen to me over his girlfriend."

She shook her head. "We're taking a break."

"Why? This case?"

"He's got to be the worried father right now. I've got to be objective. And I can't help him keep Alexis in his life when this is all over if I don't do my job." She sighed. "I get it. But it sucks."

"Yeah, it does."

"So… let's pretend for a minute there were no obstacles in place to solve this… what would you do next, looking at all this evidence?"

He sighed. The answer was as obvious as it was impossible. "Get a statement from Alexis. She's the linchpin here."

"So we talk to her."

"How?"

"We lure her out," Kate said solemnly.

"But what would bring her out from under Dimitri? She's not staying with him out of choice."

"We give her a good enough reason to risk breaking Dimitri's rules." Her eyes slid over to his. "Do you know what might flush her out?"

The idea appeared in Kevin's head. "Pi."

"Pie?" Kate asked.

He shook his head. "Peter Crespo. Her friend. We get Castle to give him a funeral and we tell the press. Make it some kind of publicity stunt thing."

Beckett frowned at him. "You think we need to put Castle even more directly in Dimitri's sights? By turning this young man's funeral into a trap?"

"I don't like it any more than you do, but it's the only thing that might bring her out," he said with certainty.

Kate looked back at the overcrowded murder board, then nodded. "I'll make some calls."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please review. :)


	15. Chapter 15

In Pieces

Chapter Fifteen

* * *

Another night, another meeting at a hotel that would turn into a bloodbath.

Alexis was in the bathroom, applying yet another layer of concealer to her neck. Her pale skin did nothing to hide the marks Dimitri's hands had left behind a week earlier. The new, high-neck gown helped, as did her carefully styled curls. Beyond wrapping a scarf around her neck, there wasn't much that would entirely cover the evidence of his cruelty.

Dimitri appeared in the doorway, watching her apply the makeup in the last few minutes before their guests arrived. She ignored him, and for a long string of seconds, he simply watched her, his face expressionless. His nose was healing, though now it was slightly crooked. The circles beneath his eyes weren't quite as pronounced.

"You are ready?" he asked softly.

Alexis put down the bottle of concealer and wiped her hands on the towel. Her gaze stuck to the bathroom counter. "Yes."

She hadn't spoken to him except to answer a direct question since he'd put his hands on her. Not that Dimitri hadn't tried to make it up to her. He'd bought her flowers, ridiculously expensive first-edition books, dresses, and all her favorite foods that she'd never told him about. But never once had he apologized, not that it would matter to Alexis. Every moment since she'd sold her soul in exchange for Kevin's life had been torture. He wasn't her friend. He wasn't her lover. He was her tormentor.

His fingertips danced along her shoulder and down her arm, and she caught his gaze in the mirror as he raised her hand to his lips. Something like regret shone in his eyes, something like an apology, a plea for understanding. Alexis let her eyes slide away from his. She didn't have an ounce of pity or understanding for the man in front of her.

He dropped her hand. "It is time." He left her alone in the bathroom, and she carefully placed her makeup back in her clutch, letting her mind fall into a headspace of numbers and variables, an unfeeling game of probability and observation where her emotions couldn't take over.

She followed Dimitri out into the sitting area, along with his bodyguards. Curling her body onto the edge of the chaise lounge next to him—like a queen would sit with her king, he'd told her during their first of these meetings. The act had become easy enough to fall into, almost second nature during their time together. It was a pretty brilliant idea. Once the men Dimitri dealt with saw her as Dimitri's girlfriend, his mistress, or whatever owned woman they were expecting, they stopped seeing her at all. Which made it all the easier for her to watch them.

The moment the hotel staff ushered in their guests, Alexis knew something was wrong. The concierge looked nervous, pale and sweating, while the group of three men, about six less than should have been present, looked triumphant. One of them adjusted something on his hip, and Alexis saw a flash of a gun beneath his jacket. It wasn't a business meeting, not anymore. She reached out for Dimitri's hand, giving it a hard squeeze.

His eyebrows furrowed just the slightest bit as he glanced down at her white-knuckle grip on his hand. She never touched him if she didn't have to. He knew that. He squeezed her hand in return and then let it go, standing to greet their guests. It was a change from their usual script; Dimitri normally allowed the men to come to him, like a king surveying his subjects. Alexis stayed where she was, her heart racing, her mind jumping between the three men and Dimitri and his guards, who watched every moment. Alexis hoped they were noticing the change as well.

"My friends," Dimitri grinned. "Thank you for coming. I believe we have a few more coming—"

He never got to finish his sentence. The man with the tell pulled that same gun from his side and shot Dimitri in the chest. He hit the ground, and on either side of him, the other two men took out Dimitri's bodyguards. For a long string of seconds, nothing but gunshots and the acrid scent of gunpowder and blood filled the air. Alexis screamed, jumping back behind the chaise and covering her head.

When silence set back in, Dimitri was still on the ground, both of the bodyguards were dead, and both of the mobster's lackeys were dead as well. "Long live the king," the man who had shot Dimitri said with a grin. Then his eyes landed on Alexis, huddled behind the chaise in her fine gown and high heels, and his grin widened. "Why hello there. Looks like it's my lucky day."

Alexis kicked off her heels, backing away across the suite, her heart hammering in her chest and her head spinning as the man advanced on her. She didn't have a weapon; she'd never needed a weapon. She'd always been a pretty thing for show, a behind-the-scenes tool that didn't encounter danger.

She made a run for the bedroom, shrieking as a bullet lodged itself into the drywall behind her. The man caught her before she made it to the door, then flung her down so hard the breath was knocked from her lungs. Her head smacked hard into the fine mahogany flooring, and stars burst behind her eyes for a moment painting the world around her a blinding white. She wheezed on the hardwood, her limbs jerking clumsily as she tried to back away, tried to grapple for a weapon, tried to make her mind work when she felt like she was moving through molasses, her head wrapped in cotton, her eyes unfocused.

The mobster fell to his knees in front of her, pressing his gun against her lips and forcing it past her teeth and into her mouth. She gagged at the hard, bitter metal on her tongue.

"Try to fight me, and I'll blow your brains out," he sneered, one hand keeping his gun in her mouth, the other fumbling with her dress.

She whimpered around the gun. Tears slid down the sides of her face, only exciting the man even more. She watched his cheeks redden, and his pupils dilate with excitement for the atrocity he was about to commit. He pulled the gun from her mouth, letting it drag down the side of her face. "Are you going to be a good girl?"

Dimitri appeared behind him, a hole torn into his fine shirt, his expression murderous. Alexis kicked the man in the thigh as hard as she could, knocking the barrel of the gun away from her face. Then everything happened in an inescapable sequence: Dimitri grasped the man's head in both of his large hands, the man spooked, his finger wrapped around the trigger, and Alexis screamed as a bullet cut through her flesh. With a roar of fury and a twist of his hands that made Alexis' stomach heave, Dimitri snapped the man's neck with his bare hands. The mobster crumbled to the floor, his eyes sightless.

Dimitri was with her in a flash, cupping her face, speaking to her in a mix of English and Russian that ran in one ear and out the other. She was numb to everything but the fire burning through her arm as the world continued to spin and blur around her. Dimitri lifted her to sit up, and the scent of blood filled her nose. She was sick all over her dress and the fine mahogany.

She heard Dimitri curse in Russian and he scooped her into his arms. She vaguely recognized the ensuite bedroom as she slumped against his chest and the world faded to black.

* * *

When Alexis came to, night had turned into day, and both the pounding in her head and the burning pain in her arm were gone. She blinked rapidly, her eyelids protesting the light spilling in through the window, and she let out a little groan at the brightness.

"Myshka." The word was a broken plea, and she sluggishly turned to the source of the voice, feeling oddly separated from her body.

Dimitri was at her bedside, still wearing the fine suit from their failed meeting, holding her hand. She blinked a few more times, taking in the room. She lay on a soft bed, pristine white thousand-count sheets beneath a dove gray comforter. She was sure the pillows behind her head were down. The large window boasted a line of blue brocade cushions, and dark furniture lined the walls, along with several paintings in muted shades of green and blue. She glanced at the IV line attached to the back of her hand and the heart rate monitor on her finger. They weren't at the hotel, or back at Dimitri's penthouse.

"Where are we?" she asked, her voice rough. How long had she been unconscious?

"A private hospital."

She nodded, recalling the events at the hotel, the terror and pain and smothering fog that had pressed over her. Potential diagnoses stumbled over themselves in her brain, and she wearily sifted through them for the answer. It was right on the tip of her tongue. She lined the symptoms up in a crooked row: headache, nausea, photophobia, brain fog—was there a word for brain fog? What was it?

Dimitri leaned close and touched her wrist, mindful of the lines attached to her hand. He seemed to be struggling to speak, but she could see the wild emotion behind his eyes, in the tremble of his fingertips, the tension of his jaw.

"He hurt you," he finally said.

Alexis didn't respond. If she'd been in this situation with anyone else, she might have tried to comfort them. She would never, could never comfort Dimitri when he'd been the one to place her in harm's way in the first place. She touched the hole in his shirt, and she glimpsed an angry pattern of bruises across Dimitri's chest. The kind of bruise pattern that only ever occurs when someone is wearing a bulletproof vest. The vest had saved his life, but it hadn't spared him much impact. She'd never known he wore a vest under his fine suits, and this explained how he'd miraculously risen from the dead when he'd been shot. He'd never been dead in the first place.

"Why didn't I have one?" she whispered. Through the fog, she recalled flashes from the previous night: dodging bullets, the man throwing her to the floor, the barrel of his gun smacking against her teeth and invading her mouth, her flesh tearing open like tissue paper when he'd finally pulled the trigger. She'd had no protection but Dimitri, and when he'd hit the floor for that string of seconds, she'd had nothing. No defenses. No protection.

His brows furrowed in confusion, and he looked down at his chest. When he gazed back up at her, his eyes shining in understanding, she hit him. Her palm slapped into his cheek, the side of his nose and mouth. She hit him again, and the third time, he gripped her wrist, pulling her into his chest and wrapped his arms tight around her. In the space of a heartbeat, her fingers clutch his ruined shirt as a belated wave of panic crashed into her. A sob caught in her throat, and she bit her lip to hold it in.

She hated him. She hated what he'd done to her. Hated the terrible things he'd exposed her to. Hated that after everything, she was clinging to him for comfort because he was the closest and only person she had in the world. He'd saved her from something she'd always thought would be worse than death, and she couldn't deny the relief that had spread through her when she'd seen Dimitri there, a snarl on his lips and murder in his eyes.

His hand stroked her hair as he whispered to her in Russian, his voice taking on a soothing cadence. Despite her anger, despite the laundry list of offenses Dimitri had committed against her, she found herself leaning into his embrace, breathing in the scent of sweat and day-old cologne. She felt his body curl around hers as he released a shaky breath. It was the closest thing she'd had to feeling cared for in longer than she cared to admit.

The knock at the door pulled her out of her bubble, and she jerked away from Dimitri's embrace, her wide eyes landing on a man in a white coat standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," the doctor said, "but I need to do a quick exam." The way he looked at Dimitri made it clear that he was asking permission.

Dimitri nodded and stood, pulling his cell phone from his stained shirt pocket. "I must make some calls," he explained to Alexis, and he left her alone with the doctor, leaving the door open. She heard his voice in the hallway. He wasn't planning to go very far, then. She didn't know if she found that comforting or annoying.

"Look straight ahead," the doctor instructed, flashing the light in her eyes and testing her pupillary reflex. Step by step, his tone always gentle but firm, he put her through what Alexis assumed was a neurological exam. She hoped she passed.

As the doctor finished the exam and asked to check the bandages on her arm, she heard shouts in various languages coming from the hallway: English, Russian, and more. She didn't know Dimitri spoke Spanish, but it didn't take an interpreter to know that he was furious.

Dimitri's doctor was nice enough; his hands were warm and gentle as he peeled back the bandage on her bicep and showed her the line of neat stitches. She noticed the doctor's clinical gaze stop on her neck, and when his eyes flashed up to hers, she knew that he knew that those bruises weren't fresh.

Something like shame trickled down her spine, egged on by her presence in the private hospital, the fact that, beneath the luxurious bedsheets, she was only wearing a slip and her torn stockings. Either Dimitri or the hospital staff had relieved her of the expensive blood and vomit-stained garment.

The shame was familiar; it echoed back to wounds that had been etched into her psyche through childhood. Hiding bruises from classmates, caseworkers, various members of her foster family. She blinked back tears, a fresh wave of panic threatening to crash into her. She clenched her fingers into her dress, stifling her emotions behind a well-bitten lip. She began to mentally count forward in a fibonacci sequence, which had always been just distracting enough for her buzzing brain.

"You have a concussion."

0, 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21…

" You may have headaches for a few days. Perhaps feel a little foggy or confused. Your arm will heal nicely as long as you don't upset your stitches. We've given you morphine and we'll continue to monitor you here for another day. Tomorrow I'll be sending you home with some oral medication to manage the pain. With some rest, you'll be just fine."

34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377, 610…

"Miss Castle?"

"Yes?" she forced herself to say.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?" he asked kindly.

Shame made her shoulders curl forward. She shook her head.

987, 1597, 2584… was it 4081? No, that couldn't be right.

"Are you sure?"

"She is not hurt anywhere else." Dimitri stood in the doorway, his phone in his hand. "May I speak with you privately?"

As both men stepped into the hallway, Dimitri closed her door with a click. Her mind still foggy, and her movements a little clumsy, Alexis took the opportunity to relieve herself and splash water on her face. The IV lines tagged along behind her like some kind of puppy.

Her torn stockings had ended up in the trash in the ensuite bathroom, and standing in the in front of the mirror in her half-slip, she finger combed her hair, mindful of the stitches on her scalp and across her bicep. She wondered how many times she'd have to throw away clothes. In her former life, she'd had to make the same old ratty hoodie last years, had duct taped holes in her shoes when they'd worn thin. God, she missed that hoodie. Alexis rubbed her face irritably as tears pricked at her eyes, then she splashed water on her face again. A knock sounded at the bathroom door. Dimitri. Always Dimitri. Never allowing her a moment's peace.

She glanced around the bathroom, and saw a white bathrobe hanging on a hook by the oversized shower. She slipped the robe on, feeling slightly better for the extra layer of clothes, and answered the door.

"I have food," Dimitri said.

"I'm not hungry."

"The doctor said you should try to eat and drink. Come." That settled it, and Alexis followed him back to her hospital bed. A tray of crackers and fruit was laid upon the bedside table, along with a teapot and two mugs. He helped her get comfortable in her bed, placed the tray of food in front of her, and resumed his seat at her side. Quite settled in as she nibbled at the crackers and Dimitri typed away on his cell phone.

"Don't you have someplace to be?" she asked.

"You have a concussion. I am going to watch you."

"Watch me do what?"

He shrugged. "Eat. Sleep. Whatever you wish to do."

"You want to watch me sleep?"

"I want to make sure you do not worsen."

"Isn't that the doctor's job?"

"Myshka," his voice was tense, not anger, exactly, not frustration, or even the tone he used when he was acting like a particularly cruel bully. But the raw edge of his voice knew he wasn't someone to mess with, not today. "Relax. Eat. Drink. Watch television if you wish. You will do it here, and I will be here to make sure you don't worsen."

"Don't you have better things to do than babysit me? Can't one of you lackeys do it?"

"This is where I am needed." He sighed. "And if last night taught me anything, it is that I cannot entrust your safety to anyone but myself."

Alexis snorted at that. "You just don't want me too broken to do your handiwork. You don't give a shit about my safety."

He glanced up, that furrow between his eyebrows again. "Why do you say that?"

"Um, maybe because you've been parading me in front of murders and rapists for months? Maybe because you get a vest and I don't?" She pointed at her neck. "Because that guy you killed tonight isn't the only one who's hurt me in the last week."

She saw his jaw tense at that last part, and she wondered if he was capable of the empathy required to regret hurting her. "You're no different than any of the psychopaths you've been murdering and dealing with; you just happen to find me useful."

"You think I am like then?"

"I know you're like them."

"I do not hurt women like that!" he snarled. "I do not take what isn't mine."

"You take lives. You took me, and I sure as hell wasn't yours."

"Not like that, myshka. I have kept my word. I have never hurt you like that. I will never hurt you like that. And I took you after you offered yourself up. You made the deal yourself."

"Some deal! I didn't have a choice!"

"You want a choice? Fine. Go." He waved his hand at the hospital room door. "Leave."

She stopped. "Just like that?"

"You do not wish to stay. I will not make you."

"What about Kevin?"

"If you walk out that door, his safety will no longer be your concern."

She pieced his offer together. "What the hell kind of shitty deal is that? That's not a real choice!"

"That is the choice you get!"

"So I work for you or an innocent man dies? As if selling my soul to your fucked up organization isn't enough."

He rolled his eyes. "Do not be so dramatic."

"When I'm not useful anymore, are you gonna finish what that other guy started?" she asked.

His eyes flashed, and he stood up, towering over her with a snarl. "I told you. I am not like him. And if you wish to be angry, be angry at yourself. It is your own weakness that keeps you here."

"Protecting people doesn't make me weak!"

"Love brings you to ruin, myshka. It does not matter if it is your little friend or that detective or," he paused, "a sister in pain. You bring yourself to ruin protecting these people."

Alexis felt some of the blood drain from her face. She couldn't refute him. She knew it was true just as well as he did.

His expression softened, and he took her hand, warming her cold fingers in his own. "Love is a disease, myshka. It will never make you stronger." He sat back down in his chair, and Alexis sank into the mattress, her nerves still on edge after he'd so casually mentioned what had happened to her foster sister. She felt some of that heartache, that old panic, rise up somewhere between her stomach and her chest.

"Who did you love?" she asked.

He glanced at her in surprise. "What?"

"You said even monsters are capable of love. Who did you love?"

He seemed to mull over her question for a moment. Then he gestured to the tray. "If I tell you, will you eat and get some rest?"

"Yes."

He let out a long-suffering sigh. "Gregor hired you to look into my life. What did you find?"

She paused, and set her teacup down. "Umm… you were the youngest of three sons. Your father and brothers passed away suddenly about eight years ago and you took control. Their brake line was cut. The police knew it was murder, and they eventually convicted a couple dealers from the cartel. You were only twenty-five." She paused.

"Is that all?" he drawled.

She shook her head. "You killed them, didn't you?"

"And my motivation?"

"Your mother."

His head tipped to the side, and a bemused smile tugged at his lips.

"Your father abused her. I saw the reports. I also saw the report from the coroner's office. The police tried to charge him, but the charges never stuck. You were a grad student at Brown at the time. Business Administration. You were living a separate life, but you came back. And you killed your father to avenge your mother's death."

"And my brothers?"

"Collateral damage, I'm guessing."

He hummed and patted her arm. "That is very good myshka. And you are correct; I could not allow my father to live after he killed my mother. Your so-called justice system failed. And men like my father do not deserve mercy." He weighed his words carefully. "But it is not the whole story."

Alexis blinked. "It's not?"

"I loved my mother very much, but a mother's love is very different than the love shared between two people who want to spend their lives together." He licked his lips. "His name was Alexei."

Alexis felt her jaw drop just a little bit. "His?"

Dimitri smirked. "I was always the black sheep in my family, myshka. I never took pleasure in the things they did. With two older brothers, I had the freedom to create a life outside the family business. As long as I kept my mouth shut and came when my father called, they didn't care that I was at school. My brothers hated me for that, I think.

"I met Alexei at school. He was studying abroad in Rhode Island. We had classes together. Studied together sometimes." He smiled fondly. "And then we were not so interested in our books anymore. He was the best part of my life."

"When my mother died, he wanted to attend the funeral with me, but I could not allow it. My father could never find out about Alexei. But he showed up anyway. He held my hand as I said goodbye to my mother, and afterward, my father called me an abomination." Dimitri sighed, a pained look pinching his face. "I did not get to keep Alexei."

"Your father killed him?"

"I think it was my brothers, working under my father's command," he said, his voice empty. "Either way, I could not let that stand. So I punished them. And then I took their empire and made it my own. I know you think my world is ugly and cruel, and I believe you are right. But it is a safer place than my father's world was."

Alexis rested her head in her hand. She struggled to wrap her head around the amount of hate and violence that was clearly commonplace to the man in front of her. "And have you… have you met anyone else since?"

"No. I could not love another after Alexei." He leaned closer to her. "But I understand what it is like to sacrifice for the people you love. To give up the life that you've built. We are the same, you and I."

"It's not the same at all. I made a deal to keep Pi safe, to keep Kevin safe. You killed your father and brothers—"

"—to avenge my beloved," he responded. "Justice would never have been found for him. I had to create justice for him myself. And to do that, I had to give up my friends, my schooling, everything."

She shook her head, then winced. "No, it's the not the same."

"I know what it is like to grow up in a world of pointless cruelty. I know what it is like to be hurt by the very people who should have been caring for you. I know what it is like to see the normal, happy lives of those around you and to wonder what is wrong with you that you can't have that."

She blinked back tears, and Dimitri reached for her hand, lacing his fingers with his own. "And I also know what it is like to be the smartest person in the room and to have everyone still look down on you. You and I are the same, myshka. We are survivors. We have been refined by cruelty, and while others have succumbed to their pain, their innate weaknesses, you and I are stronger for what we have been forced to endure."

"I'm not like you," she insisted, her voice rough, her eyes shining. "I'm not a monster."

"I think you were very happy to see this monster snap a man's neck last night."

She shuddered at the memory, her stomach twisting with shame and anxiety. She hadn't mourned the man's death for even a second. She'd been glad to see Dimitri, relieved that he had killed her would-be assailant. She'd been happy about a man's death. Did that mean that she was monster, too?

"No, you are not a monster," Dimitri agreed, "You are a pretty doll, a genius who can read a person's story in their face and steal everything most important to them, and all the while, they will admire your innocence and beauty." He smiled indulgently. "You are poetry."

"I don't want to be your doll," she snarled.

He seemed unaffected by her anger. "The difference between you and me, myshka, is that you still hold on to these fairytales about love and souls and good and evil. You believe that you are some cinder girl, perhaps, some victim of circumstance waiting for a prince."

"Are you supposed to be my prince? Are you here to save me, Dimitri?"

"I think you know I am no prince." He stroked her cheek affectionately. "And you are no princess. Fairytales are lies we tell children to make sense of a cruel and unfair world. I am not here to save you, myshka. I am here to offer you an opportunity to rise above your circumstances and to find justice and meaning on your own terms."

Alexis sat back, breaking their connection. "How benevolent of you."

Dimitri rolled his eyes and slid back into his chair. "Myshka, I meant what I said last night. You have choices. If you wish to leave, then I will not make you stay."

She sighed. "I can't have anyone else's death on my conscience. I think you know that."

"So you are choosing to stay?"

"I'm choosing to protect the people I care about," she clarified. "I'm not choosing you."

"I understand. Still, I am happy about your choice." He grinned at her.

She blew out a breath and pulled her blanket up to her chin, allowing her eyes to flutter closed. Perhaps Dimitri wasn't her tormentor anymore, but that didn't mean he was her friend.

* * *

"You ready?" Kevin asked Castle, who looked pale.

"You think this will work?" the writer responded.

"I don't know what else to do," Kevin admitted. "Maybe this will bring her out, you know?"

Castle sighed. "Yeah. Maybe." He straightened his tie. "How do I look?"

"Like a million bucks."

The writer nodded and stepped onto the podium where the press was gathered. Cameras began flashing, and the journalists immediately began to pepper him with questions, all of which he ignored.

He spoke into the camera, "I've asked you all here today for one reason. Not to talk about a book tour, or a new movie, or even some sordid scandal I'm sure many of you are talking about. I'm here to talk about a young man. A young man who had some missteps in his early years. A young man, a known addict, who was found dead in an abandoned apartment in this city. His name was Peter Isaiah Crespo, and he was murdered. Who the murderer is, I don't know. Though you can bet that I have theories." He cleared his throat. "Peter was a screwup at best, and manipulative at worst. He did some selfish things, and he carried with him the capacity for great kindness.

"Some people would say that Peter was always destined to have a bullet in his head. I disagree. I am deeply saddened about his fate, and even more disappointed that justice hasn't been found for him. So I'm here to offer him what I can: a peaceful resting place. Peter's funeral services will be held ten days from today at St. Mary's church. I invite anyone and everyone who knew him to come pay their respects. Say what you will about addicts, about the poor, about those individuals who don't have enough privilege to bounce back from their mistakes. Peter was a person, and he didn't deserve to die."

Castle stepped back from the podium, his face grave and then leaned in to add, "I'm not taking questions at this time." He passed Kevin on his way to the car, and Kevin watched the media swarm in confusion at the press conference. Kevin hoped that it would work; and he hoped that he hadn't just put a bullseye on his friend's back.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please review!


	16. Chapter 16

In Pieces

Chapter Sixteen

* * *

"I want to go to Pi's funeral."

"Of course you do."

Alexis frowned down at her breakfast. Dimitri, seated across the table from her with his own meal and the day's news in front of him, hadn't so much as lifted his eyes from the newspaper when she'd made her request.

She'd seen the media event on television and had read about in the newspaper, and ever since she'd spent hours each day plotting different ways to try to attend her best friend's funeral. It was incredibly important to her to say goodbye to him, to have any chance at all at something resembling closure, something better than leaving his freshly murdered body in that godawful safe house. Her cheeks burned with shame every time she thought about how poorly she'd taken care of her best friend, even after his demise. But with Rick being the one to make the funeral possible, Alexis knew it was more than likely a tactic to her lure out from under Dimitri's thumb. And she was torn between her longing to say goodbye to Pi and her fear of what might happen to them if they were successful in getting her away. She was sure that Dimitri wouldn't risk losing his greatest asset, and she knew his fury would be swift and unrelenting until he got her back.

"I want to say goodbye," she pressed.

His lips twisted into a smirk as he looked at her. "Are you asking permission?"

"If I did, would you say yes?"

"You know it is a trap."

"I can work around that."

"I will not risk losing you," he said with a note of finality.

"Right." She stabbed her eggs with her fork a little more forcefully than was necessary. "Because who else would keep your secrets and steal for you?"

It had only been a handful of days since the coup, and he'd been more protective than usual ever since. The graze on her upper arm was healing nicely, as was the cut on the back of her head. Dimitri seemed determine to make sure she didn't come to harm again. He didn't take her on as many meetings as he did before, and when he did bring her, he made she was out of the room for the transactions. Now, most of her involvement in his meetings was conducted through surveillance cameras and an earpiece that allowed her to whisper instructions and observations of the group.

Alexis wasn't sure how effective he was in smothering rebellion in the other syndicates, though. It seemed things had gotten more dangerous than ever. Twice now, he'd almost been assaulted on his way in or out of one of his hotels. He and Alexis always travelled separately now, and he was paying his bodyguards more than ever to retain their loyalty. Alexis wondered how long it would take before his carefully constructed empire came falling down around him, and whether or not she'd get caught in the rubble.

"You said I have choices," she reminded him.

He looked up from the newspaper again. "And I meant it."

"But I can't choose to go to my best friend's funeral?"

"You may," he conceded, "but there will be consequences. There are always consequences."

Alexis shook her head."He was my best friend! And you're the one who killed him! You owe me the right to say goodbye, at the very least."

"He sold you for drugs."

"He was the closest thing to family I've ever had. He mattered to me, Dimitri. And saying goodbye to him matters to me!"

He sighed, and that infuriating, bored expression slipped over his face as he looked back down at the newspaper. "After the burial, I will make sure you have an opportunity to say goodbye. But not now. This is too risky."

"But—"

"Finish your breakfast," he cut her off, his tone flat. "We have an appointment. And I will not have that writer's stunt ruining our plans."

Alexis smothered her argument behind a mouthful of toast and finished her coffee, blinking back tears. She should have known he wouldn't give in. That he wouldn't let her do this one thing that mattered so very much to her.

After breakfast, Alexis was driven to an old warehouse. Dimitri arrived in a different car a few minutes after she did, and he guided her into the warehouse with a hand on the small of her back. She frowned as she looked down the long main room of the warehouse, which they had to themselves. A variety of mannequins were stood up in random places around the room. Dimitri pulled her to stand beside him at the end of the room.

"What are we doing here?" she asked.

"I have something to teach you, myshka," he said. He pulled a gun from inside his jacket and held it out. "You are not as safe as I would like, and after the other day, I think it is time for you to learn to defend yourself. Have you ever used a gun before?"

She shook her head. "I've never shot one." She stared at the gun in his hand. "I don't want to shoot people."

He stepped closer, pressing it into her hand. "I hope you will not have to. But it is better to be prepared than hopeful, I think." He stepped back. The gun was still in her hands.

"Aren't you afraid I'm going to shoot you?" she asked.

His answering smile was smug, and he stepped close enough so the barrel of the gun was pressed against his shirt. "Do you want to shoot me?"

"Sometimes."

He took the hand that was holding the gun and lifted it higher, so it was pressed just underneath his chin. "So shoot me."

Alexis's body froze. She couldn't bring herself to breathe, much less pull the trigger and end a man's life, even though he was a monster, even though she hated him, even though he'd done nothing but hurt her since she'd met him. Everything she'd learned about his past hadn't been anywhere near enough to change how she felt about him. Perhaps he was a more complicated person than she'd first believed, but that didn't make him any less evil.

After enough time had passed to prove whatever point he was trying to make, Dimitri smirked and stepped back, and she lowered the gun to ground, relieved to not have a human being in her crosshairs. "It is one thing to want to cause harm. It is another thing to do it." He cupped her cheek, smiling warmly at her, even as she trembled with adrenaline and self-loathing. "You are far too kind for this world, myshka. I think it is time to change that."

He turned her to face the mannequins and then stepped behind her. His much taller frame covered hers as he let his hands rest over hers and brought her hands up to raise the gun in front of her. It was a strangely possessive and intimate gesture, but Alexis wasn't surprised. Though he'd never made any sort of sexual advance on her, Dimitri had never been one to respect her physical boundaries, either. If he wanted to be up close and personal, he would be.

Dimitri's thumb dragged over hers, flicking off the safety on the weapon. "There are ten rounds in the chamber," he said quietly. His stance was so close that he could whisper and be heard perfectly. "Try to hit one of the targets."

With a deep breath, she allowed her finger to press against the trigger. The recoil surprised her, but it didn't pack as much punch as she was worried about. Either way, she was secure in Dimitri's arms, and he seemed to know his way around a gun better than anyone she'd ever met. Naturally, the bullet didn't go anywhere near the target.

"Try again." He squared her posture again, and she pulled the trigger again. This time, it glanced off of one of the mannequin's legs, taking out a chunk of plastic.

"Myshka, how is it that a girl like you doesn't know how to use a gun?" he asked conversationally as she reasserted her posture without his guidance.

"I don't like them," she said simply. The third shot went wide again.

"It is just a weapon. A tool. It is useless unless it is in the right hands."

"In my experience, they almost always end up in the wrong hands." The fourth hit the mannequin in its torso. The fifth landed in almost the same spot. The sixth hit the mannequin's neck.

"You are learning quickly." Dimitri's voice was pleased. "Now, imagine it is a person you are shooting, myshka. Flesh and blood and breath and bone."

She dropped her posture, letting the seventh bullet hit the floor near the back of the warehouse. Then she handed the gun back to him. "Nice lesson, but I'm not shooting anyone."

He frowned at her, his eyes narrowing. "You must be prepared for the worse, myshka."

"I'm already living the worst-case scenario," she snapped. "I don't see what there is to be afraid of."

"You think you have nothing to lose?"

"I'm not worried about protecting myself."

He took the gun from her hand, his gaze heavy on her. "I do not think that is true."

"I'm not going to kill anyone just to protect my own sorry life."

"And what if the other person's life is much sorrier than yours?" She turned away from him, and he caught her arm, spinning her to face him. "Like the man who tried to force himself on you. You would choose his life over your own?

"It's not—"

"Or any of the people who have hurt you over the years. You would let them? You wouldn't fight back? Myshka, you've committed violence before to save your own skin. Do not pretend you are above this."

"I don't want to talk about that," she snarled. "I'm tired of you bringing it up."

"And if it was him on the other side of the gun? Would you still choose his life over your own?"

"I'm not turning into some psychopath murderer who justifies everything. I'm not going to be like you. And I don't want a gun."

"We will find you a different weapon then—"

"I don't want a weapon!" She snapped. "I don't want to hurt people. I don't want to be a monster!"

He was quiet at her outburst, and Alexis felt a fresh thrill of fear slip along her spine. If Dimitri was quiet, it almost never ended well for her. He reloaded the gun and handed it back to her. "You will hit the mannequin ten times without my help. And then we will go. But not a moment before."

She took the gun, dread thumping through her.

Growing up in the system, she'd been judged before she'd ever even had a chance to prove herself. She was a liar, a cheater, ignorant. She'd undoubtedly end up knocked up before she turned eighteen, would undoubtedly gain herself a criminal record. Would undoubtedly work some uneducated, dead-end job for the rest of her life, or live off of handouts, because what else did someone like her do?

A broken little girl in a grown-up body, failing her way through life. She hated the judgment almost as much as she hated to prove even one of those judgments right. "I'm never going to be like you," she insisted softly.

"Myshka, if you were like me, I would already be dead," he reminded her. "Ten hits. Stop wasting our time." He stepped back and took a spot against the wall to watch her.

Alexis sighed and raised the gun, pointing at the mannequin. She tried to imagine a true face on the smooth plastic. The face of a person with hopes and dreams and a warm, beating heart. Even the face of a tormentor. Dimitri. The man at the hotel. The foster father who used to haunt her sister's bedroom in the dark of night.

She froze. Her breath caught in her chest. She pulled the trigger.

* * *

Kevin had never seen such a sad excuse for a funeral in his life. Jenny's funeral had been a full house of family, friends, coworkers, and well-wishers. Kevin had been too numb and shattered to appreciate it at the time, but her funeral had truly been a celebration of her life, and a venue for those who had survived her to come together and support and love each other.

The only people who attended Pi's funeral were reporters, a handful of strung out users, Beckett, Castle, Javier, and himself. It was an empty church, and rather than love and support, the air itself reeked of desperation. For the next headline, the next fix, or simply some answers.

Castle had spoken a few words at the beginning, as had a priest, and the rest of the time had been dedicated to those who wished to pay their respects. Kevin had sat in a far-back pew with Javi the whole time, watching the coming and going, acutely aware of a certain redhead who had yet to show.

Javier patted his back. "She'll come. Maybe not now, when there's so many witnesses. But she'll show."

"I hope so." Kevin didn't know what to do if she didn't show. There were no other usable ties to Alexis. Dimitri stood in their way in every other venue.

He was beginning to fear for her safety, even more so than when she'd joined with Dimitri. The gangs were at each other's throats, and more than one member in interrogation had mentioned bringing down Dimitri and everyone who had helped make his ascension possible.

"Do you miss her?" Javi asked.

Kevin nodded. He missed her more than he'd ever have thought. For as brief as that first night together had been, one blip on the radar to be followed by all sorts of radio silence and an obligation to do no harm while she'd been in his care, he did miss her.

He missed the way she tried to sneak in junk food from her adventures with Castle. He missed the way that she watched him and read him, how, without even having to say anything, she knew when he'd had a bad day. He missed those times when he'd gotten her talking, and she'd told him about everything from theoretical physics to which Bronte sister was her favorite. He missed her kind smile, her gentleness and empathy. The way she couldn't help but laugh at him when he pouted because the Knicks were losing.

Lost in her case, he hadn't appreciated those moments. But now. During silent nights in his apartment, they were all he could think about. He wanted so much for her to be safe. Happy. Healthy. He wanted to take her on a date. He wanted to see her reunited with Castle. He wanted to find out if he could really love her, too. There was so much he wanted for her, and it killed him that those things might never come to pass.

"Seems like she was his only friend," Javier continued, glancing around the empty church. "Well, his only sober friend."

"She loved him, and I think he loved her, too. At least as much as he was capable of caring about anything other than his addiction," Kevin answered quietly. "But she gave him more than he deserved, honestly, and she deserved a hell of a lot more than she ever got."

Silence set in between the two of them, punctuated only by the ringtone on Rick's cell. Kevin watched him step outside into the hallway to answer it. The writer was as pale and harried as he'd been since he found out the truth about his relation to the missing redhead, and Kevin was reminded that he wasn't the only one with something to lose.

"We'll get her back," Javier assured him again, and Kevin rubbed his face.

"I know we will," he said with a sigh. The words felt like a lie, but he ignored that part. That lie was the only thing keeping him going in the nightmare he'd been thrown into. That lie was his saving grace. "I know we will."

* * *

Rick Castle stepped off the elevator in his building in a rush. His downstairs neighbor had somehow gotten his phone number and was loudly complaining about water leaking from Castle's loft into his apartment below. While it wouldn't be the first time his mother had left the bathwater running too long, Rick was all too aware that his mother wasn't getting any younger. She could have slipped and fallen just as easily as she could have forgotten about the running water.

He slid the key into the lock, shoving his front door open. "Mother?"

He was met with silence. No running water. No answer from the aging Martha Rodgers. Castle checked the kitchen, then both bathrooms. There was no standing water in the apartment, not even so much as a leaky faucet.

He pulled out his phone and called his neighbor back. A robotic voice told him the number had been disconnected, even though it had been in use not thirty minutes earlier. Castle huffed out a breath, frustrated that'd he been pulled away from the funeral for nothing.

His nose caught a strange, chemical scent on an inhale, and goosebumps broke out on his skin. When his eyes landed on the oven burners, which were letting out a steady stream of natural gas, everything clicked into place. His heart skipped into double-time as he sprinted out of the loft. His hand closed around the doorknob and, just as he swung the door closed behind him, the world around him exploded.

* * *

Author's Note: Wishing all of you a very Happy New Year! Thanks so much for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! Please review.


	17. Chapter 17

In Pieces

Chapter Seventeen

* * *

It was the middle of the night when Dimitri flicked on Alexis' bedside lamp, roughly shaking her out of her sleep. Panic immediately began to spill through her veins. Were they being attacked again? Had their enemies found them at Dimitri's apartment? "What is it?" she gasped.

He cupped her cheek; his grin was delirious. "We have caught him, myshka. And now it is time to punish him."

"What? Caught who?" She tried to blink away the tiredness in her eyes.

He stepped into her closet and returned with a sweater and a pair of jeans. He tossed the clothes on her bed. "Get dressed. We have business." Then he slammed her bedroom door shut, his energy almost manic with glee.

Alexis dressed and brushed her teeth. She was pulling her bedhead into a ponytail when Dimitri waltzed back into her room and dragged her to the door, ecstatic as a kid on Christmas. Her stomach clenched with anxiety. Whatever he was so excited about, it couldn't bode well.

On their way out of the apartment, she glanced at the news playing on the television and felt the blood drain from her face. An apartment building was on fire from a suspected gas leak, but that the wasn't the part that chilled her to the bone. It was the headline.

APARTMENT EXPLOSION: AUTHOR RICHARD CASTLE PRESUMED DEAD

"What have you done?" she demanded, her voice shrill. The world was taking on a hazy quality. Rage mixed with fear and bubbled up into mindless hysteria. "What have you done, Dimitri? What have you done?"

He turned her away from the television, dragging her back to the door and into the elevator. "You should not have lied to me."

"You killed him. You killed Rick. Oh my god." She felt her knees buckle and she slid to the floor in the elevator. She was going to be sick all over the fine marble flooring. No, she was going to pass out. Something heavy pressed against her chest and tears stung at her eyes. She couldn't breathe.

With an annoyed curse in Russian, Dimitri stopped the elevator and lifted her to her feet. "You must get control of yourself. You said you did not know him. What do you care if he is dead?" His logic taunted her, seeing through her lies. She'd thought he'd already punished her for lying. She'd thought he'd taken her penance with that ring of broken blood vessels on her neck. She'd thought Rick would be safe.

She'd thought, out of the string of collateral damage she left behind her, at least she could keep Rick safe.

With a scream of anger, she shoved Dimitri as hard as she could into the opposite wall of the elevator. His back smacked against the wall, and surprise lifted his eyebrows. Alexis didn't stop attacking him. She slapped his face, punched him in the chest, and when he caught her hands and flipped her around, her back pressed against his chest to restrain her, she sank her teeth into the flesh of his arm until she tasted the metallic tang of blood.

He cursed at her, and she took the opportunity to stomp his instep and smash the back of her head into his chin. Pain flared across her vision as his jaw bone made impact with the bruise on her skull from her concussion.

Her moment of hesitation was all the opportunity he needed. With a swift punch, the wind was knocked out of her and she was pinned to the floor. She wheezed, each breath huffing out like a pathetic little sob, and Dimitri snarled down at her. His cheek was swelling, and his teeth were stained with blood from where she'd hit him with the back of her head. "Enough of this!" he snapped. "You forced my hand. I cannot have you lying to me. Ever. And now you never will again."

"I hate you!" she hissed, her head still spinning with shock. "I'm going to kill you for what you've done."

He rolled his eyes. "Do not be stupid. My kindness is the only thing keeping your precious detective alive, is it not?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. She'd only ever felt this helpless once in her life, and she hadn't been able to save the person she'd loved then, either. He stood and let the elevator resume its journey to the bottom floor. "Get up," he snapped and then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed his lip.

Alexis mutely stood, her ribs and head aching, that overwhelming sense of helplessness and loss pressing in on her. When the elevator doors opened, Dimitri took her arm in a white-knuckle grip, marching her to the car. Rain was coming down in sheets, crashing onto the windshield.

"Where are your guards?" she asked.

"We do not need them tonight," he answered simply.

Fresh, dark ideas popped into her mind: taking the steering wheel and driving them off the road. Taking the gun from under his coat and finishing him off. Simply throwing the car door open and making a run for it at the next stop light.

"Myshka," he said softly, his voice low. "I do not think I need to tell you what will happen if you try to leave or harm me tonight. You are smarter than that, I think."

His threat brought the ideas to halt, and a fresh wave of helpless tears to her eyes. She couldn't help the fury and grief that burrowed beneath her skin, the oppressive air around Dimitri and the way it smothered her until she was itching and desperate to get away, to not have him ruling over every moment of her life or poisoning her with his threats.

But she stilled and let Dimitri drive without any further comment or threat. He'd killed Pi. He'd killed Rick. He'd kill Kevin, too, if she wasn't good. And she couldn't have any more blood on her hands.

He drove them to an underpass at the edge of the city. As she stepped out of the car, Alexis wrinkled her nose at the smell of garbage and urine that emanated from the air, and she zipped up her coat to ward off the nighttime chill. Dimitri took her hand and led her further beneath the underpass where some construction lights illuminated a man tied to a chair. He was hunched over. Blood dripped from his face.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, her eyes wide, that sickening feeling spreading across her belly.

"I have a gift for you, myshka." Dimitri was so delighted he was practically giddy, the anger from their confrontation had faded. He grabbed the man by his hair and yanked his head up. Alexis gasped, and she felt the blood run from her face.

Benjamin Rodgers. Dimitri had found her foster father, brought him from California, or god knows where he'd been living since he'd been let out of prison, and now he was bloodied and trapped.

"I know what this man did to you," Dimitri said. "What he did to your sister. I know the burden it has been to you. I know how you have been caged by this man for years. Now it is time for him to see justice." He placed a gun in Alexis' hand. The same one she'd been using for target practice. "Kill him, myshka. Kill him, and be free."

Alexis' brain short circuited. This couldn't be happening. Benjamin groaned, his head lolling to the side. He seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Myshka," Dimitri urged. "It is time for you to get your justice."

She shook her head. "I-I can't. This isn't right."

He let go of the gun. Somehow it was still in her hand without him supporting the weight of it. "You must."

"No." She tried to shove the weapon back into his possession. "No. I don't want it."

"The hell?" Benjamin muttered, lifting his head.

Alexis felt a fresh wave of revulsion roll down her spine. She hadn't heard that voice in so long. It brought back memories she'd spent years trying to shove down: rough hands pushing her into walls, doorways, countertops and tables, grabbing her thin limbs so hard that his fingerprints left bruises in her skin for days after. The backs of her thighs had memorized the shape of his favorite belt, and her stomach had never quite forgotten the periods when he'd stopped hurting her and instead had decided that starving her would be more fun. She had never been able to predict what would set him off. She'd spent sixteen months walking on eggshells around the man, silent and afraid and crumbling one little piece of herself at a time.

But everything he'd put Alexis through couldn't compare to what he'd done to her foster sister, Emma. When Benjamin was in a foul mood, he'd beat Alexis black and blue, all the while calling her a little slut, a cheap piece of ass, useless, a waste of oxygen, whatever string of words he thought would cause the most damage.

Benjamin was careful not to leave any marks on Emma. But Alexis knew. Alexis heard him sneaking into Emma's room in the darkest hours of the night, when their foster mother worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. She heard Emma's muffled sobs during and after.

And that was why she'd pushed him down the stairs. Why she'd already tried to kill him once. And Alexis had been equal parts relieved and disappointed when she'd realized he'd survived.

Dimitri gripped her chin, yanking her to face him, to look into his dark eyes and come back to the terrifying present under the dirty underpass. "It is time to end this," he said solemnly.

Alexis looked back at her foster father, who was squinting past the construction lights to determine who had tied him up. She was hidden in the darkness, and all she wanted was to stay hidden. "I can't do this," she pleaded.

"You can and you will." He shoved her forward until she stumbled in front of the construction lights and into view of the man who had haunted her nightmares for years. She still held the gun in her hands.

Benjamin jumped back when she stumbled in front of him, and then his face scrunched up in confusion, as if he was trying to place her. "What the fuck do you want?" he snarled.

Alexis recognized the look on his face. "You-you don't remember me?"

It took Benjamin a moment, and then his face split into a sneer. "Little Lexi Castle. All grown up, huh?" He glanced down at her gun and then back at her face. He didn't seem afraid. "Out for some revenge, sweetheart?"

The nickname sent her stumbling back in time again, and she felt sweat break out on the back of her neck.

"Your little stunt with the staircase was real cute. But I guess you've graduated to the big leagues, now. Who's rolling this sick little operation for you? Who're you spreading your legs for, baby girl? "

Alexis swallowed, but she couldn't bring herself to speak. Silence in front of this man was as natural as breathing. She stepped back, and Dimitri was there, his hand firm on her back. "Do not let him speak to you that way. You are stronger now than you were before. You have the power to hurt him back."

"Hey," Benjamin snapped at Dimitri, "I don't know what this little slut told you about me, but you've got the wrong guy. This is a big misunderstanding."

"I am not mistaken," Dimitri said. Then he directed his words to Alexis, "Do you know what this man has been busying himself with since he left prison? He has been making lots of new friends. Lots of young, female friends." There was a violent snarl on the edge of Dimitri's words. Alexis' head snapped up, and she looked at the man in front of her. Watched how his shoulders curled forward, his gaze slipped to the side, his lips thinned into a grimace.

Alexis had spent her life watching people, learning patterns and behaviors and reading the language of blinks and twitches and eye contact. But she'd perfected the art under Benjamin's roof, when a misread expression was the difference between a peanut butter sandwich and going to bed hungry for the third night in a row. When the twist of his lips could mean a laugh at her expense or fifteen agonizing minutes of his belt against her bare skin. When the smallest smile told her that he'd visit Emma's room that night.

Alexis had memorized Benjamin's face. For better or worse, and she knew that Dimitri was telling the truth.

"Would you like to tell Alexis what you have been doing with you new friends?" Dimitri taunted, and Alexis was momentarily surprised at the sound of her name on his lips.

"None of your fucking business!" Benjamin snarled, yanking harder at his restraints, an animal fury taking over him.

Dimitri stroked her cheek. "Men like him do not deserve second chances. He has squandered his already. And now you must put him down."

Still Alexis hesitated. The gun in her hand felt heavy, too heavy to lift, too heavy to hold. Much as she hated the man in front of her, she still couldn't wrap her head around taking a human life. Not so easily. Not so callously. And she knew, just like she was sure Dimitri knew, that there was no going back from what he wanted her to do. "Why did you bring him here?" she asked.

"For you. For you to get justice and closure and move on from this."

He was lying. She knew it in her bones. "You didn't do this for me. You did this for you." She shoved the gun at him, but he wouldn't take it. "I won't kill him. I'm not like you. I'll never be like you."

Dimitri frowned at her, and then he stepped further into the construction lights. Closer to Benjamin. He pulled a knife from inside his coat. And Benjamin fell back in terror, pleading as Dimitri drew closer. Rather than killing the man, Dimitri yanked the knife through his ropes till they fell on the ground around him. He pointed the knife in Benjamin's face so the man wouldn't run. "You know I am powerful. Powerful enough to whisk you away from your parole and your pathetic little life. Powerful enough to kill you right now with no consequences."

Benjamin whimpered in fear, and Alexis felt something like satisfaction bubble in her chest.

"I am also powerful enough to change your life for the better, so consider this your audition." He flipped the knife around, passing it to Benjamin handle-first. "If you kill that girl behind me, you will be rewarded. If you fail, you will die."

Alexis gasped, and Dimitri stepped away from Benjamin, no longer her protector. He'd never been her protector. Benjamin stood, his limbs shaky at first, and then he pulled himself together, and his face twisted into something savage that had Alexis' heart racing.

"Dimitri," she pleaded, backing up as Benjamin approached.

Benjamin lunged at her, and then everything happened very fast. His knife caught on her coat, slicing through the fabric. She skittered back, ready to run for her life, and Dimitri caught her arm and shoved her back toward her attacker.

"You have a choice to make, myshka. No more running."

Benjamin lunged again, grabbing her arm and stabbing the knife at her face. She ducked out of the way, screaming as the edge of the blade cut into her skin just below her ear. She kicked him back, and threw her arm up to protect her face when he attacked again. The knife sliced through her coat and sweater and into her forearm. He aimed for her torso, and she jumped back as the knife nicked her belly.

"Stop!" she screamed. "Please, stop!"

He kicked across her midsection, and she crumpled to the ground, her head smacking against the concrete. Benjamin fell on her then, raising his knife, slick and red with her blood. She caught his hands before the knife could penetrate her chest.

"D-don't do this," she tried. She shoved his hands away as he plunged it harder downward, knocking off his trajectory. White-hot pain rushed up her shoulder when the tip of the knife sank in just below her collarbone and she screamed.

"Give up, baby girl," Benjamin sneered. "I've got you now."

Alexis screamed when he yanked the knife out of her skin and raised it again, this time a killing blow.

Once, twice, three and four times, a gunshot echoed in the underpass, and her ex-foster father's body collapsed on top of her, bleeding profusely from each of the fresh bullet holes.

The scent of blood filled her nose, the viscous liquid staining her clothes, her skin. She shoved the body off of her with a wail, tears running down her face in full force. She retched at the scent of blood, and the remnants of her dinner ended up on the ground next to the dead body. She staggered back, but Dimitri steadied her.

"Myshka, myshka," Dimtri's voice barely sank through the panicked haze that had settled around her mind.

She flinched as he touched her shoulder, and she pointed the gun at him. "Don't touch me!"

His hands went up, and his face paled just a little bit. "Myshka," his tone was soothing. "You made the right choice. It is over now. You can—"

Dimitri's body jolted as a bullet hit him in the shoulder. He looked just as shocked as she felt.

Another bullet drove into his leg, and a third embedded itself in his abdomen. He gasped, his face losing all color. He crumpled to the concrete, his arm wrapped tight around the blood blooming across his middle. "Myshka," he gasped, the name a plea.

The gun still smoking in her hand, Alexis sprinted out into the rainy night. She didn't look back.

* * *

Alexis ran until she'd put miles between herself and the two bodies she'd left under the underpass. Until the freezing rain had numbed her to the knife wounds, until she no longer smelled blood with every breath. Until her feet carried her to the church where Pi's funeral had been held just hours before.

Numbness had set in, eliminating everything but her bone-deep need to get into the building, to say goodbye to her friend and to wrap up all the other loose ends. She found a side door, and shot the lock off the door, then kicked the door in. It led to the church's kitchen. The gun clattered loudly on the counter as she dropped it to reach for the phone. She dialed the number Kevin had made her memorize, and tears pricked at her eyes when she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Kevin." She didn't recognize her own voice. Empty. Paper-thin. The voice of a killer.

"Alexis?" Her name on his lips sent a fresh wave of tears down her face.

"You need to go into hiding for a while."

"Wait, what? What are you talking about?"

"Get in a car and drive. Stay away from New York. You're not safe."

"What happened? Where are you? I can come get you."

"I killed him," her voice broke, and she drew in a ragged breath. "I didn't want to. He made me. I never wanted—"

"Killed who?" Despite his surprise, his voice was gentle, like he knew that kindness was what she needed more than anything else. What a good detective he must be. "Alexis, tell me what happened."

"They're coming for you," she said. "If you want to live, you'll run. Now."

She hung up the phone, then sank to the floor. She pressed a hand against her mouth to stifle her sobs, the soul-sick wail that threatened to escape from her chest. The numbness had faded during her first conversation with Kevin in two months and it had been replaced by panic and desperation. She'd killed a man. Two men, probably. She was a killer. Her hands were smeared with blood. Her soul was dripping red with the life she'd taken. Each moment of the night, from the moment Dimitri had shaken her awake, flashed through her mind in perfection recollection. She staggered to the church's kitchen sink and was sick again. And again. Heaving until nothing came out and she crumbled on the cool tile floor.

It took her a long time to find something resembling control, to find anything like the numbness that had allowed her to get away. Finally, she dragged herself out of the kitchen, little sobs hitching in her chest every now and then, and she found the chapel. The nameplate next to the casket.

Pi was still there. She hadn't missed him after all. She could still say goodbye. And after that... Nothing mattered after that.

She rested her hand against the shining wood of the casket. It was much better than she would have ever been able to afford for Pi, no matter how many promises she made to evil men. Rick's generosity brought a small smile to her lips, and that smile twisted into a grimace, and then a harsh sob as she recalled that he, too, had been taken by Dimitri. She forced herself to think of something else, someone else. To think of Pi and the good friend he'd been to her, even with his many flaws.

"I remember when we first met," she said softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. "No one would talk to me because of how I'd landed in juvie, but you would. You were nice to me. I thought you were some kind of weird, hippie kid at first.

"I remember when you stole cooking sherry out of the kitchens, and I got drunk for the first time. You tried to lie and say I was sick, but I think my caseworker knew the truth." She felt a smile tug at her lips at the memory.

"I still love daisies, you know. I always will. And I forgive you. I know you were trying to help. I'm sorry I didn't get you the help you needed. You always saw the best in me. You always said that I was special, that I was good and kind." Her voice hitched. "I should have been there for you. I should have supported you more. I should have protected you."

Alexis sank to the carpet, one arm wrapped around her chest, the other muffling her sobs, which seemed to echo in the cavernous chapel. "You were wrong. I'm not special. I'm not good…."

"I wish you were here," she whimpered. "I'm all alone now."

"You're not alone."

Rick Castle stood a few feet behind her, his hands held out in front of him. One of them was heavily bandaged. His face was smudged with ash and held together in a couple places with butterfly sutures. He was wearing a sweatpants and a hoodie with the NYPD shield on the front, and even from several feet away she could smell the smoke on him.

Her gasp echoed through the cavernous church. "Rick?"

"It's good to see you." He tried to smile, but it looked painful.

"I-I saw the news..."

"Dimitri's not quite as good a killer as he'd like to think."

The name sent Alexis skittering backward, putting distance between herself and the writer. Another liability. Another person for Dimitri's men to kill for her mistakes. "Stay away from me," she gasped. "You need to leave. You need to get out of here. Run. Get out of New York."

He stepped forward. "I'm not going to hurt you, Alexis. You're safe now."

"You're not!" she insisted. "I did a bad thing." She shook her head. "So many bad things. You need to leave! If they find out you're still alive—they'll hurt you. Just like Kevin and-and Pi—" A whimper tore out of her throat.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You don't understand. He'll kill you. For real this time. I can't let anyone else get hurt over me!"

Rick kneeled in front of her and held out his hand. "You've been protecting all of us for long enough. Now it's time for someone to protect you."

"I… I can't," she whispered.

"You're not alone," he said again. "I'm here. And I'm not leaving without you."

Alexis threw herself into his arms, broken tears streaming down her face. Months of Dimitri's poison and years of disappointment and pain had led her to this moment. This tipping point. The final crack before she shattered. But Rick didn't rush her. He let her get it out.

"I d-did a bad thing," she sobbed. "He made me. I didn't want to. "

"It's alright," he whispered into the crown of her head. "You're safe. That's all that matters. It's over now."

* * *

The sunrise was just peeking over the horizon as Rick walked out onto the beach, letting the cold Atlantic nip at his bare toes. His mind travelled over the events of the last twenty-four hours: his home had been destroyed, and after pulling himself out of the burning chaos, he'd been whisked to Jim Beckett's home, where Lanie Parish had tended to his wounds as Kate determined that Rick was safer as a dead man. She'd handed him a wad of cash, told him to leave town, to lie low, and that she'd take care of the rest.

Only, he hadn't left town. He'd gone straight to the church. Something deep in his bones, perhaps on a cellular level, had told him that Alexis wouldn't miss the chance to say goodbye to her fried. He'd found her, sobbing, frantic, and broken, and he'd taken her out of the city. Despite being in hiding, Rick Castle felt oddly at peace.

His daughter was safe.

She was safe and warm and sleeping upstairs in one of the guest rooms. Once they'd arrived at the Hamptons house he'd asked Alexis to tell him the bare minimum about the shooting, and after many false starts and a fresh round of tears, she'd told him where the NYPD could find the bodies. Alexis had cleaned herself up while he'd called Kate to go investigate the shooting. Rick was relieved to find that the blood saturating her clothes wasn't hers, and he'd bandaged her cuts and had used his first aid kit to stitch the wound on her shoulder. He noticed they weren't the only stitches holding her together, but Alexis hadn't offered any information on her older injuries.

Alexis had asked for a computer, and then had spent a long string of minutes erasing real estate files and altering any scrap of information that could lead danger to their doorstep. Afterward, she'd been more or less catatonic, and she fell asleep quickly.

He knew she'd been traumatized. He knew that she still had a long road ahead. All sorts of legal complications. But in this moment, on the beach, he felt at peace. Now he had an opportunity to help her, to tell her the truth about herself, to work together to bring this madness to an end.

Ryan was on his way to the Hamptons house, but it'd likely be several days before he arrived. While Rick was presumed dead and Alexis was in the wind with no known living allies but Kevin, the detective had more hoops to jump through, and he was undoubtedly under more scrutiny from all sides.

His sudden leave of absence would look suspicious; it would be easy to assume that Alexis had come to him for safety, and that they'd run off together. So Kevin would be spending the next week or so laying a trail that looked exactly like that story. A string of hotel suites for two across the country until he dropped off the map completely. Then he'd circle back to the Hamptons. The detective was understandably worried about Alexis and eager to see her again. Rick was sure Alexis felt the same way.

His burner phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. "How bad is it?" he asked without preamble.

"I can't decide if it's better than we thought or worse," Kate answered. "We went to the scene. There was nothing there. Not even blood on the cement. It was washed clean."

Rick shook his head. Even if the rain had been powerful enough to wash away the blood, the bodies would still be there. "How is that possible?"

"It takes a certain amount of power to dispatch a cleanup crew that fast. Castle, I think he's still alive."

"So he survived, he called for help, and he wiped the scene to cover the whole thing up."

"It's probably better that you stay dead for a while."

"No kidding."

"How is she?" Kate asked.

"Are you asking as the lead detective on her case?"

"I'm asking as someone who cares about you very much," she clarified. "So….. how is she doing?"

He sighed. "Not good, but she's safe."

"Well, keep each other safe for the next few days. My dad's on his way down with some supplies for you two. I'll keep my eyes out to see if Dimitri surfaces."

"Thank you, Kate."

"Bye, Castle."

Rick hung up the phone and rubbed his face. It was a Christmas gift and a curse all at once. Dimitri was still alive, and surely he was pissed off at Alexis for shooting him. But to have the scene wiped and the body disposed of…

Castle reached into his jacket and pulled out the gun Alexis had dropped at the church. It was the last scrap of viable evidence, save for Alexis' testimony. He pulled his arm back and tossed it into the Atlantic. The splash it made in the water was promise made in blood.

He'd meant what he'd said to Alexis in that chapel. She'd spent long enough protecting the people around them. Now it was his turn to protect her.

* * *

Author's Note: Gotta love the father/daughter reunion. After getting zero reviews on the last update, I have to ask: is anyone still reading this?

Next time: Alexis and Kevin come face to face.


	18. Chapter 18

In Pieces

Chapter Eighteen

Alexis liked the ocean. There were so many opportunities on the edge of the horizon. So much peace to be found in the waves lapping away at the sand. After waking from a few hours of dead sleep, she'd taken stock of her injuries, of the loose-fitting clothes that Rick had given her to wear—picked up at a secondhand store in a rush on their way to the Hamptons—of the numbness that had settled over her world, and then she'd padded down to the beach.

She curled her toes into the sand, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees as she stared out at the horizon. For the first time in her life, her brain wasn't buzzing. It wasn't filled with ideas and questions and observations and inane bits of trivia she'd picked up along the way. Her neurons weren't pinging into overdrive; making connections almost faster than she could keep up.

Instead, her mind was quiet. Frozen in time. Empty save for the single train of thought that shifted from ocean currents to dead bodies, to seagulls to how Kevin would react when he saw her again. There was substance there, certainly, but it was glued together with enough fluff and obsolete ideas to keep the panic at bay, to keep that warm numbness coiled tight around her.

Alexis lay back on the warm sand, letting the heat of the midday sun sink into her bones like a lazy cat sunning itself. After a quiet, warm eternity, she heard the crunch of footsteps on sand and watched Rick Castle approach her, a bottle in his hand.

"Enjoying the view?" He asked, handing her the bottle. It was sunscreen. SPF 50. Ideal for redheads like herself.

"Thanks," she said, sitting up. "It's a beautiful sight."

She could tell from his posture, from the downward twist of his lips, that he had something to tell her. Something bad, maybe. Certainly not something good. "What is it?" she asked.

Rick hesitated, then said, "We have reason to believe Dimitri is alive."

She blinked, and an echo of visceral fear pushed against her barrier of numbness. It didn't quite push through, and she curled a little tighter in on herself, savoring the protective nothingness. "I shot him three times," she said, her voice empty, as if she was stating a fact as mundane as the chemical properties of water.

"Alexis, there weren't any bodies where you said they'd be. We think Dimitri called for help and a cleanup crew. He hasn't checked into any emergency rooms yet—"

"He has a doctor on retainer at a private hospital. St. Agnes Medical Center. If he survived, that's where he is."

Rick nodded once. "I'll let Kate know to look into it. Discreetly, of course. We don't want to give him any sort of confirmation that you're in touch with the NYPD."

"Good thinking." Her eyes had locked back on the waves.

She heard Rick take a deep breath. "And while we're on the topic, I think it's important for you to remember that you acted in self defense last night."

His blind faith sent another ripple crashing against her defenses. "You don't know that. Not for certain."

"I know you wouldn't shoot anyone without good reason."

"It doesn't matter the reason. I killed a man and tried to kill another." She felt her heartbeat began to pick up, to thrum in her chest even as her mind stayed detached. "I used seven bullets to cause harm."

"You were fighting for your life and you were in shock."

"Actions have consequences," she said softly.

"Not if can help it."

Silence set in, but for the first time Alexis didn't feel an anxiety to fill it. With each second removed from the conversation, she felt that numbness return. Her heart stopped threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Her mind stayed blissfully quiet. She began to smear sunscreen on her cheeks and nose. Still Rick stood there, like he needed something from her, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. Finally, she heard him shift on the sand. "Are you hungry?"

She shook her head.

He kneeled next to her, hesitantly touching her shoulder. It took great effort to not flinch away from the gentle touch. "I'm here for you if you need anything."

"Thank you, Rick."

Then he stepped away and left her alone on the sand.

* * *

When Alexis finally pried herself off the beach and headed back into the house, Rick and another man were hunched over the counter, writing out a list. Her eyes flicked over the newcomer, an older gentleman. Was this Rick's father? When he saw her, he gave her a warm smile and held out his hand, "Jim Beckett."

Alexis shook his hand, the name echoing in her mind. "You're—"

"Kate's father," Rick supplied. "He's here to help."

"I'm going to the store to get us some things. I can pick up some clothes for you, if you write down your sizes," Jim offered. "They might not be the most stylish…"

"That'd be great." Alexis nodded. If Dimitri was alive, he'd be scouring the tri-state area for her. She couldn't just stop by a department store to get new clothes. Since Rick was supposed to be dead, he couldn't exactly run errands either, and everyone else they knew was likely being watched by Dimitri. Rick's mother, in particular, had an important role to play as the grieving mother.

"I can give you some money," Alexis began, reaching for the laptop Rick had provided for her the night before, when she'd erased his connections to the Hamptons house.

Jim waved her hand away. "It's nothing."

"Food and clothes aren't nothing," Alexis reminded him. "And Kevin's on his way. We don't know how long we'll be here, and I'm sure Rick's accounts are being watched. Kevin's too. I'd like to help."

"Where did this money come from?" Rick asked, no doubt recalling how impoverished she'd been when they'd met.

"Dimitri's had me transfer millions of dollars over the last couple of months," Alexis said as she began accessing the secure account she'd set up for herself. "From gang lords, arms dealers, traffickers—all sorts of scumbags. Let's just say I've been setting a little aside for myself."

"Why?" Jim asked.

"Contingency plans," Alexis said simply, not taking her eyes off the screen. "And now we can use it to keep food in the house and stay under the radar until this is all over."

"That money belongs in police evidence," Rick said, dismayed.

"And when everyone is safe and Dimitri's been taken down, it will go there." She looked up at Jim. "Who do you bank with?"

He began rattling off the bank account number and Alexis began the transfer and wrote down her clothing size.

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it.

Jim hesitated, then patted Alexis's hand. "You're welcome."

* * *

"Hey, do you have a second?"

Alexis looked up from her book, one of Rick's bestsellers, to see the author himself standing in her bedroom doorway. After Jim had left with their long shopping list in hand, that same silence had settled over the vacation house. Rick had made something for lunch, and Alexis had picked at it, more to keep him from worrying than anything else. After that, she'd retreated up to her current bedroom, oddly exhausted by the brief interactions she'd had with Rick and Jim. Her mind was beginning to ease out of the numbness, and she'd been desperate for a distraction. "Sure. What's up?"

"I have a present for you."

Alexis put down the book and Rick stepped into her bedroom. He took a seat at the edge of the mattress and handed her a small jewel case with a DVD inside of it.

"What's this?" she asked. She looked at the words scrawled onto the DVD. _Meredith Harper. The Taming of the Shrew_. She glanced up at Rick. "I didn't know she was in this."

He nodded. "She was a great Catherine. Well, a pretty good Catherine," he amended with a small smile. "Anyway, I thought you might enjoy watching it."

She hugged it to her chest, something like emotion tugging the corners of her mouth upward. It felt good to smile again. "Thank you, Rick. How did you even know to look for this?"

He hesitated, and Alexis had a deep sense of foreboding at the expression on his face. Like he knew his next words would have a cost. Her smile dimmed, slowly slipping off her face. "I saw her perform in it," he said, his voice hushed like he was confessing to something awful.

"You never told me you saw her perform live. Did you know my mom?"

He cleared his throat. "You could say that. We, um, we dated back in the day."

She went still. "When?"

"About twenty-two years ago."

Alexis did the mental math in about a second, then immediately shied away from the possibility. No, that couldn't be what he was trying to tell her. That couldn't be why he looked so nervous, like he was about to be sick. "Oh," she said, more to fill the silence around them than because she understood.

"Alexis, there's something I need to tell you," he began. "Something I've been wanting to tell you for months now."

She shook her head. "Don't."

"What?" he frowned.

She stood up, backing away. "Whatever it is you're going to say, just don't."

"I stole some strands from you hairbrush when you were staying with Ryan—"

"Rick, stop," she breathed.

"It's a match. We're a genetic match."

She shook her head, her face crumpling.

"You're my daughter," he confirmed, and Alexis felt like she was going to be sick. "I should have guessed from your last name. Hell, your first name should have been a clue. Before I changed my name, my middle name was Alexander. And I guessed it was possible from the first day I met you, from the moment I found out who your mother was—"

"Rick—"

"And I know the timing is crap, but it killed me to know you were out there in danger and you didn't know who I was to you. You didn't know that you still had a family, and people who cared about you."

She held up her hand. "Enough!"

"You don't believe me?" he asked.

She ran a hand through her hair. Her overwrought mind juggled numbers and variables. What were the odds? She believed him. The truth of it was etched into the lines of his face, infused in the desperation in his voice. He wasn't lying, and that almost made everything worse. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this information?" her voice broke, and she stood a little taller, squared her shoulders to make herself look stronger than she felt.

"Whatever you want," he said quickly. "No pressure at all. I just wanted you to know you have a family. Me and my mother. You have a father, you have a grandmother."

"No, that's not how this works."

"Alexis—"

"You might be related to me biologically, but we are not a family. I do _not_ have a family, Rick. I never have."

"No—"

"I've been shuffled around and fighting for the right to exist since the day I was born," she continued, her voice filling the air around them. "And a genetic test doesn't change the fact that I've spent my entire life alone!"

Rick's face crumpled, and she saw him blinking back tears. "You have every right to be angry with me. But I swear I didn't know. Meredith never told me. For all these years, I've had no idea—"

"That I existed?" She laughed bitterly, tears stinging her eyes. "I can't do this right now." She pushed past him and headed downstairs. Her footsteps stomped out onto the back porch, and he heard the back door slam behind her.

Rick followed her to the door, watching through the glass as she stomped down onto the beach. He was speechless, and his heart was caught in his throat even as dread and anxiety twisted in his stomach.

He'd never imagined she'd react this way, that she'd be so angry with him for sharing the truth. For so long, his singular concern had been to bring her home. Now that she was safe and he could tell her the truth, Rick realized the work really had barely begun.

When Jim came back into the house, his car packed with groceries, he pulled Castle from his funk. "Help me with these, will you?" Jim asked.

Once the car was unloaded and the food was put away with a large bag of clothes for both of them on one of the kitchen chairs, Jim looked around. "Kate sent over some suggestions. I hope your girl likes them. Where is she?"

Rick glanced outside. He couldn't see her from the kitchen window. "Cooling off, I think."

"Why?"

"Because I told her the truth and now she's angry with me." Castle rubbed his face. "Am I already messing up this whole fatherhood thing?"

Jim looked to the window outside. "You told your daughter a truth that she didn't want to hear, so she stormed out?"

"That's the long and short of it."

The corner of Jim's mouth tilted up, just slightly. "Sounds like you're doing fine so far."

* * *

Kevin grew more and more nervous with each passing mile that he moved closer and closer to Castle's house.

It wasn't that he was afraid of bringing Dimitri's wrath back to the unlikely safe house on the beach. Kevin had spent the better part of a week traveling all over the county, diverting everywhere from Jersey to southern Utah to get any unwanted followers off his trail. Castle and Beckett had helped him get started, and about halfway through his journey, Alexis had provided him two new identities and two new bank accounts, all in an effort to fall off the grid.

It had seemed a bit overkill to Kevin, until Castle had described the lengths Dimitri could go to to find someone. Apparently Alexis had done quite a lot of work to dig into people's lives and habits when she'd been working for Dimitri, and she was sure that she wasn't the only hacker on his payroll.

So Kevin took his identities and his various plane, train, and bus tickets with something like cheer. They were breaking about a dozen laws, and he couldn't help but notice how good the fakes were. This was a side to Alexis that he'd never seen firsthand, and he could see now why Dimitri wanted her so badly. If it was child's play to produce two fake identities and all the supporting materials, what else could she do?

He hadn't spoken to Alexis still, not since she'd made a deal for him. He'd asked to speak with her when he'd been in contact with Rick, but she hadn't wanted to talk to him. According to Castle, she wasn't doing well. Kevin hadn't been terribly surprised to hear that. Two months at the beck and call of a psychopath couldn't have been much of a holiday.

Truth be told, Kevin didn't know what to make of the last few weeks: Castle's apartment exploding, the writer himself being presumed dead, Alexis shooting Dimitri after allegedly killing another man in self defense. The world itself seemed to have gone sideways, upside-down and inside out. He supposed in the big scheme of things he was lucky for getting out of town before Dimitri hurt him any worse.

More than anything, he wanted to see Alexis, to make sure she was truly okay, or as okay as she could be, all things considered. He had so much he wanted to ask her, to tell her. So much left unsaid.

Kevin pulled into the driveway of the palatial beach house, his heart racing in his chest. It had been months since he'd seen Alexis last, and he was both terrified and excited to see her again. He reached into the backseat of the car for his duffle bag and walking cane, which he only used sparingly anymore, though he still walked with a limp.

He knocked on the front door, and felt a grin spread across his face when he saw Castle on the other side. The writer looked exhausted, perhaps a little haunted, but he smiled when he saw Kevin on his doorstep.

"I'm so glad you made it," Castle said, pulling him in for a hug.

"You and me both."

The writer showed him around the gigantic house, indicating the room Kevin would be staying in. Kevin noticed a quiet to the house. "Where's Alexis?" he asked.

A shadow crossed over Castle's face. "Outside. She spends most of her time on the beach these days."

"How's she doing?" Kevin asked as he set his duffel bag on the bed and perched himself on the edge of the mattress, stretching his leg out to ease the dull ache in his thigh.

"Honestly, I have no idea. She's been quiet since I brought her out here, and now that she knows the truth…"

Kevin's eyes widened. "So she knows now?"

"Yeah."

"When did you tell her?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"I'm guessing she didn't take it well."

"Understatement," Castle said with a sigh. "It's a lot to take in, even if things weren't…" he paused, gesturing to the house around them. "Like this. I'm trying to give her space."

"I'm sure she appreciates it." Kevin's eyes cut over to the window then back to the writer. "And how are you holding up?

"Well, it's not easy being dead," Castle began with a wry smile. "I'm ready for this nightmare to be over."

"Last I checked in with Beckett, Dimitri hasn't surfaced. I'm sure he's pulling all the strings right now, but if Alexis is right that she shot him three times, it's gonna be a while before he's mobile again."

"I guess we'll just have to wait it out."

"At your beach house," Kevin supplied with a small smile. "I guess it could be worse."

Castle laughed, then clapped his friend on the shoulder. "You hungry? I'm gonna get dinner started."

"You need some help?" Kevin asked.

"No, that's alright. Get settled." Castle waived his hand dismissively. "But I'll probably stick you with dishes, so prepare yourself."

Kevin smiled as the writer left. He unpacked his duffel, then took a shower, taking extra time to brush his teeth. He always felt so unclean after traveling, and after a week of nonstop traveling, he was glad to be resting his head in one place for a while, even if that place was a safe house.

He dressed in fresh clothes and combed back his hair. He limped over to the window then, opening it wide to let in the crisp Atlantic air. The endless stretch of beach and ocean from his window was a beautiful sight. Kevin had never gotten to spend much time at a place like this, no surprise with being a cop and not a billionaire.

A spot of red and black on the beach caught his eye. Alexis.

It took Kevin a few minutes to reach her. His thigh didn't enjoy the uneven, soft sand and ached as he pushed forward. Alexis was several hundred feet down the sand from the house, no doubt out of view of the house's kitchen and backdoor. She was sitting at the edge of the beach, her knees curled up to her chest, staring out at the ocean.

He watched the waves lap at her bare toes for a moment. Her hair was shorter than it had been when she'd stayed with him, falling just a couple inches past her shoulders, and was darker than he remembered. Despite his lumbering through the sand, she didn't seem to have noticed his approach.

"Hey," he said softly.

She sat upright and turned to look at him. Those large blue eyes widened, and she pushed herself to her feet, brushing sand off of her dark jeans. "Kevin," she breathed.

For a moment, he just took her in. The sharp angles of her face, the way her dark clothes hung on her thin frame. The slouch of her shoulders and the way her bare feet were braced on the sand like she would dash away at any moment. A patch of freckles had bloomed across her nose and cheeks, no doubt from all the time she'd recently spent in the sun. Her eyes were wide, wary, like she wasn't sure what he was going to do now that they were face-to-face for the first time since she'd bargained for his life.

Seeing her in front of him filled him with new regret for what she'd done on his behalf. He remembered again the tears on her face, the fear in her eyes as he'd been dying in front of her. He remembered the warmth of her lips against his, he remembered the anguish in her voice, not diminished one bit through the paper-thin walls, as she'd told Dimitri that she didn't want to be a criminal. He remembered that simple string of words that had haunted him in the months since she'd disappeared.

 _I could have loved you._

Kevin held out his hand, and after a beat, she took it. Her slender fingers were cold against his palm. He didn't know everything she'd been through in the months since he'd last seen her. He didn't even know half of what she'd endured. But he knew, just by looking at her, that the cost had been great. And she'd done it all for him.

He limped forward, narrowing the space between them. Her expression became pained as she watched him move, and he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against each of her knuckles. Her bottom lip trembled. Then he let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her. It took a few seconds before she responded to the embrace, and he felt her arms circle his body. She rested her head against his neck with a little sigh.

He held her close, savoring the warmth of her body against his, and ran a hand over her hair. He tilted his head down and whispered into her ear, "Thank you for saving my life."

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the kind words on the last chapter. I'm so glad to hear that there are still people out there reading and enjoying. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter as well.

Please review!


	19. Chapter 19

In Pieces

Chapter Nineteen

For twenty-one years, she'd wandered the world as a stranger, a lone wolf, an orphan. She'd relied on the kindness of strangers and, when that well had run dry, she'd been forced to rely on herself, on survival skills learned before she could read.

But the truth was out. She wasn't an orphan. She'd had living relatives all along.

Alexis kicked up sand as she stalked down the beach, putting as much distance between the large house as she could. Rick's house. Her father's house. No, he wasn't her father. He was just the playboy billionaire author who'd donated some X chromosomes. Nothing more. He certainly hadn't been there for a single step along the way.

It was almost twenty-four hours removed from the Great Reveal, and Alexis still couldn't wrap her head around it. God, she'd taught herself to read, to tie her own shoes, to swim, to ride a bike, to cook, to lie, to steal, to survive—

Alexis stopped and wrapped her arms tight around herself. She turned to face the ocean, wiping a few tears from her cheeks. The hollow feeling in her chest, the same hollowness she'd felt every Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthday for as long as she could remember, intensified. How many nights in her childhood had she wished for a long-lost relative to find her? To offer her a home? A family? Something resembling love and care?

With a ragged breath, she wiped her face again and sat down hard in the sand. If she squinted over her shoulder, she could still see the house in the distance. How was she supposed to make sense of any of this? How was she supposed to keep living there, keep hiding out with this man she hardly knew? This man who had contributed half of everything that made her a person.

Alexis had mourned the loss of her mother since she was old enough to understand what it meant that hers wasn't around. And that sadness had graduated to understanding and acceptance as she'd grown older and she'd realized the truth of fame and drugs and unwanted side-effects and unexpected consequences. She thought she'd been born alone, unwanted, cast aside like garbage.

More than once, she'd searched for her father. But she'd never come across Rick even once. Despite their shared last name, she'd had no reason to hope that there was any sort of meaningful connection between herself and the writer. Or maybe she simply hadn't allowed herself to hope.

Alexis couldn't stop her brain from stringing together all sorts of beautiful narratives of the life she could have lived. Growing up in New York with Rick as her father. Weekend trips to the Hamptons house, prep schools, and never going to bed hungry. Staying in the same home for more than a year at a time. Birthday parties and Christmas trees and maybe, just maybe, enough love and belonging to fill that hollowness inside her.

She could have finished high school. Hell, she could have finish college by now, if she was driven enough. In the life she could have had, her buzzing brain would have been utilized for a different purpose. Instead of reading faces, manipulating codes, and running an endless count of mental probabilities, she would have used it for science fairs and academic achievements. Music lessons and foreign language classes.

She wondered what that Alexis would have been like, with a proper upbringing. An Alexis who had been calibrated for something other than simply surviving.

She tensed as she heard the sound of sand beneath footsteps. Every crunch of the sand drew louder as the person neared. She fought back a sigh. She didn't want to talk to Rick now. His eager, if a bit desperate, expression was seared into her mind as he'd told her that great secret. That great trespass of her trust. She gritted her teeth. How could he have just had that testing done without even talking to her first?

It didn't matter that his instincts had been right. That might have actually made the whole thing worse. And much as she'd struggled to maintain some semblance of calm when he'd come clean, she knew she would lose her shit if he tried to start up some father/daughter bonding.

The footsteps drew closer, slowing as they neared her in a tentative, strange cadence. A long stride followed by a clipped step. The offbeat rhythm was made more pronounced by the halting tempo, and without turning around, Alexis realized the pattern. A limp.

Rick didn't have a limp.

"Hey." It was the voice she'd been desperate to hear for almost three months.

Her head spun around so fast she was surprised she didn't get whiplash. The moment her eyes landed on him, her body was in motion, whipping her front around at almost the same rate her eyes scanned him, pulling in details like someone lost in the desert would drink that first gulp of fresh water.

"Kevin," she gasped.

Her mind helpfully supplied observations. His jeans and t-shirt were looser than she recalled. Circles hugged close beneath his eyes. His skin had lost its golden hue, but he was nowhere near as pale as he'd been in that old bathtub. His hair was freshly washed. There was a crease between his eyes as he watched her. Worry. He briefly caught his bottom lip between his teeth as he stared back a her.

He took a step closer to her that was more a limp than a stride, and her heart cracked open. Where was his cane? Did he still use it? Was his leg not healing properly? Had she been too late? Was the damage—

He took her hand in his. His skin was so warm she felt the heat of him sinking into her bones. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of her knuckles, all the while staring at her with so much earnest affection that she simultaneously wanted to wrap herself in that feeling, to sink into his warmth, and run away from the emotional weight that was being placed upon her.

Then his arms slid around her, and she was engulfed in that clean, woodsy scent that was all Kevin. She hugged him back and rested her head in the crook of his neck as she breathed him in. Memories rushed through her mind, shattering the hurt and anger she'd been holding onto and replacing it with something warm and heavy and bittersweet, a sort of nostalgic pleasure-pain.

She remembered the cloud of grief that had hung over him the night they'd met, the spark in his eyes when they'd talked and she'd showed off her wits, the passionate way he'd kissed her, touched her, claimed her body in a way that nobody else ever had.

She remembered his quiet disappointment, his palpable worry during those weeks when she'd floated through that medicinal fog, weak as a kitten, thinner than she'd ever been, totally dependent on his kindness. He'd tucked blankets around her shoulders at night, and had been almost militant in his determination to get her healthy. He'd known all of her ugliness, and he'd still cared for her in a way she'd always wanted but had never been able to experience.

"Thank you," he whispered into her ear, "for saving my life."

 _I could have loved you._ She'd told him that day when she'd bartered for his life. She'd believed what she said. The words had resonated truth into every fiber of her being. And she felt the exact same way now. Months removed from that hasty confession. She didn't know what to do with that truth. She'd never been in love before, not even anything close to what she felt for the man in front of her, much less a real relationship.

Not that a relationship was on the table in the first place. It had never been, at least not since the truth had come out. Not since he'd realized that the dream girl she'd made herself out to be was nothing more than a facade. More a nightmare than anything else. A legacy of failure and crime and never even coming close to escaping the noose that had wrapped around her neck the day she was born.

She still felt the weight of the gun in her hands. Still felt the thick, hot blood as it gushed through her clothes and onto her skin.

She stepped back, her arms wrapping tight around her middle. Her hands were tucked beneath her arms as if she could hide the evidence from him, the blood that stained her fingers no matter how hard she scrubbed it off. "I'm so sorry." Her eyes glued to the sand. "I'll fix this. I will. You can go back to your life soon. Forget any of this ever happened. I'm so sorry." The words tumbled out of her mouth almost faster than her tongue could form them. She hated that things had come to this point, that they were stranded, off-the-grid in this luxury prison, waiting for someone else to fight her battles, to clean up her mess. It was all her fault.

When she'd run out of promises that she wasn't remotely equipped to keep, her words hung in the air around them, smashing against the waves on the beach, against the pinched expression on Kevin's face. He reached for her hand again, and she flinched when his skin met hers.

Now that reality had crashed back in, her joy and relief were dampened with guilt that crawled just under her skin. He'd broken her distracted state when he'd kissed her knuckles and held her close, when her heart had woken back up and remembered how to feel, the good and the bad and everything she'd been pushing back since Rick had told her the truth about her heritage. Her brain buzzed with variables and memories and _what if, what if, what if_ —

Kevin squeezed her fingers, gently drawing her back without initiating any further contact. She wondered how much he knew, how disgusted he was with her, how much he regretted ever picking her up in that bar.

"It's getting cold out, don't you think?" he asked, watching her face carefully.

She blinked. Her mind was too overburdened to even consider something so mundane as the temperature, but she felt it now as the sun dipped ever further behind the horizon. The Atlantic breeze lifted her hair for moment, and a chill slipped down her spine. She hadn't truly felt any kind of cold since that rainy night in New York.

"Do you want to go inside?" he asked. "I think dinner's about ready, if you're hungry."

The weight of everything bore down heavier. She shook her head and turned back to the waves. "I'm not hungry."

"You can't avoid him forever, Alexis."

"I can try."

"He just wants to help you."

"He's already helped me more than I can ever repay. You both have."

There was silence again, and she heard Kevin huff out a breath. "You think we're keeping score, or something?"

There was always a score to settle. Alexis had learned that lesson about the same time she'd taught herself to read. She crossed her arms over her chest. Kevin didn't understand. He'd certainly seen his share of ugliness in his police work, she was sure. And he'd experienced loss and so many other things that she didn't yet know about.

But he hadn't grown up like her. He hadn't grown up with that aching emptiness, that less-than-human feeling that she'd carried around with her from foster home to foster home. He didn't know what it was like to associate the term "mother" with negligence and abandonment and apathy. He didn't understand that the closest thing she'd had to a father was the handful of foster fathers who had never quite seen her as a human being. The concept of "family" was utterly foreign, almost fanciful.

And that was what Kevin didn't understand, what Rick didn't understand, what Alexis could barely wrap her head around herself. How could Rick tell her that she'd had a family this whole time, that he was ready to be there for her, when twenty-one years of programming had taught her that the best thing she could ever do for herself would be to keep all the so-called fathers and mothers and "family" out of her life? God, her most recent foster father had tried to murder her not two days earlier.

Chills broke out on her skin anew as she recalled his knife biting into her skin. The recoil of the gun against her palms as she drove bullets into his flesh. Kevin's warm palms pressed against her skin. "Hey," he said softly, once again bringing her back to the present. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that brilliant head of yours."

She licked her lips, physically willing herself not to flinch away from his touch, even though, like so many other things in her life, it felt like too much. Too warm. Too heavy. Too insistent.

Her eyes slid to the side, locking on the sand beneath her feet. "My mother gave me up the day I was born. And after that... if someone wanted to be called my mother or my father, it didn't end well for me. And Rick was my friend. He liked me for me. For this mess of a person I am. For Alexis with all of her flaws and criminal background and-and everything that comes with this. I knew he cared about me. I cared about him, too. I liked him, too. And now… he's not my friend. He's my father. I'm his daughter. And, let's be honest, I'm not the daughter that anyone wants. I never have been."

"I think you should talk to him about all of this, but, Alexis, he does want you," Kevin said. "Just as you are. That's a fact."

"Because I'm his daughter," she said, her voice empty. "Guilt and obligation is not the same thing as kindness and mutual respect, Kevin."

"I'm sure—"

"I know he feels that way, because I feel that way, too. He's my father, and all my life I've wanted to find somewhere to belong, and even if I'm a wreck and a criminal and basically the last daughter anyone would ever want, I still owe it to him to be... " She trailed off, then sighed. "Better, I guess. He deserves better." She could barely explain it to herself. "We were friends, and now we're something different and it's all a mess." She wiped her cheeks. "I wish he'd never stolen my hair out of that brush."

"You need to talk to him about all of this," Kevin said again. "He cares about you, and not just because you're related. He cared about you before all of that, right? Do you believe that?"

"I thought I did."

"And do you still care about him?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation. "When I saw the news… when I thought Dimitri had killed him. I felt like I'd lost my mind. I felt like I'd lost… someone very important." She blinked back fresh tears. Would she ever stop crying?

He wiped the tears away. "Then is it so crazy to believe he could still care about you now?"

"I guess not," she sniffled.

"And Alexis… when you were with Dimitri," he trailed off, and she tensed. There was so much wrapped up in that phrase. So many crimes committed, so many ideologies set aside, so much grief and darkness. "I thought Castle might lose his mind over it, too. All he's wanted this whole time was for your to be safe and happy and healthy. This is a mess, and it's a big change, you're right. But in a lot of ways, this is the answer to his prayers. And mine," he said belatedly.

She let her eyes slide closed, leaning into him almost without meaning to. It wasn't till her cheek pressed against his chest and the scent of his soap wrapped around her that she realized she was basically depending on him to keep her upright. "I'm sorry I've put you through so much."

His hand closed around her shoulders, and she felt his fingertips just barely brush over her chain-link scar. "You have nothing to apologize for. You saved my life."

She scoffed. "Considering it was my fault you were pulled into that situation in the first place, I think I have plenty to apologize for."

"You didn't pull the trigger."

"I'm the reason that gun was pointed at you."

He gripped her chin. "Hey, enough with the guilt, okay? You can blame yourself for every sin from now back to Eve, but it won't change things for me. It doesn't change how I feel about you."

Her voice caught in her throat, and it was only the firm grip of his fingers on her jaw that kept her from turning away. This was nothing like the reunion she'd envisioned. "And how do you feel?"

His gaze softened, and his fingertips slid over her cheekbone before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She watched color seep into his pale cheeks. "Seeing you again... it makes me think that maybe all of this isn't so bad. Maybe there's some hope after all."

Her lips curled into the shadow of a smile. Still, she kept her voice even. She ignored the butterflies in her stomach and the pitter-patter of her heart. "You should know better than to feel that way about me, Kevin."

"I know what I'm getting myself into."

"You don't know what I've done," she said softly.

"I know enough for now," he said simply. "And I trust that you'll tell me the rest when you're ready."

For the first time, he wasn't seeking to pry information out of her unwilling grasp. That was surprising. Alexis realized how very little they knew about each other. In the big scheme of things, what did she truly know about this man that she'd lived with for a month? She knew he was a Knicks fan, a clean freak, a health nut, the latter of which was likely a way to find control after his wife's death.

He was a widower. A detective. Irish. A pain in the ass when he felt like he was doing the right thing. A generous caretaker when she'd been in need of that sort of person in her life. He was a fantastic cook. An excellent lover. He had a sister. A niece and some nephews. Was that all she knew about him? Was that enough?

She'd told him she could have loved him, but there was a more-than-insignifcant part of Alexis that felt like she already did love him. At least in some small way, in whatever way you could measure the significance of the heartbeat beneath her ear, of the calming scent of his soap and the heat of his skin. He was alive. He'd survived. They both had—and now he was in front of her, living, breathing, whole.

That was enough.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

He leaned in, brushing his lips over her forehead as his arms closed around her again. She heard the gentle smile in his voice. "Now, I really am hungry. And cold. Are you sure you don't want to come in and eat?"

She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for everything that awaited her back at her fath—at Rick's house. Reminding herself how much it had hurt to think he was dead. Reminding herself of the good times she'd spent in his company before reality had messed everything up. She stepped out of Kevin's arms, affixing something resembling a smile to her lips. She did almost feel like she could smile again."I could eat."

* * *

Author's Note: Some long-awaited Rylexis goodness. Yay! Hope you're enjoying the story so far and these slower, gentler moments. Thanks so much for reading. Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

In Pieces

Chapter Twenty

Rick Castle had never thought he'd get sick of his gorgeous vacation home. At least not before he'd taken up residence there to hide from a homicidal Russian with his newly discovered daughter and one of his best friends.

A soon-to-be gorgeous sunrise was peeking over the horizon, and on the beach, closer to the shore than to the house, Castle saw Ryan dressed in loose clothes, working through a series of exercises. Physical therapy exercises from the look of it. Even from across the beach, the writer could see sweat darkening his friend's clothes. Kevin's face was contorted into a grimace, and Castle had a feeling that if he opened the window, he'd be able to hear the sounds of exertion coming from his friend, even over the crashing of the waves.

He wondered if it was that precise adherence to rules, the same code that made Kevin buy seven-dollar salads while Esposito gorged himself on two-dollar hamburgers, that made the detective push himself on the shore, or if it was something else altogether. The same something else that made Castle feel like he had a never-easing hook between his shoulders, tightening and yanking him with tension every passing moment. Maybe it was the same something that made Alexis wake up in the dead of night, almost every night they'd spent in hiding, shrieking as if someone was trying to kill her.

The writer rubbed his eyes. Coffee wasn't quite going to cut it., but it was all he had. Not for the first time he lamented that he hadn't added liquor to Jim's shopping list. The canister of grounds made a satisfying smacking noise on the granite countertop, and he allowed himself to be just a little louder than normal, his jerky, aggressive motions the closest thing to a release he'd allowed himself. He poured water into the back of the machine and thwacked his fingers against the power switch. Unease and restlessness burned just beneath his skin.

"Can I help?" a soft voice behind him said.

Rick spun, guilt washing through him. He'd woken Alexis with his loud behavior, hadn't he? "I'm sorry," he said immediately. "I'll be quieter."

She shook her head. "I've been up for a while now. Don't worry about it." And she did look awake, more so than him anyway. She was dressed in day clothes, and if the circles beneath her eyes gave away her exhaustion, she didn't let it show in any other way. "Can I help with breakfast? I'm not much of a cook, but I can scramble eggs?"

She'd phrased it like a question, even though Castle knew without a doubt that he wouldn't turn her away no matter what she brought to the table. "Um, sure. Eggs sound good." He moved to the fridge, still caught in a sort of trance, quietly shocked that she was speaking to him, that she was seeking him out without Kevin their to buffer the interaction. The detective had managed to coax her in for dinner the night before, and she'd been civil enough, but she seemed to have a hard time making eye contact with him, and he'd found himself initiating every word of awkward conversation that had passed between the two of them. "Do-do you want… um, what do you want with them? Bacon? Toast?"

"Um… what do you like with scrambled eggs?" she asked, and for half a second, she looked just as unsure as he felt. He snapped out of his trance, realizing belatedly that she was offering an olive branch. She was reaching out to him. It wasn't about breakfast at all.

He felt a smile quirking at his lips. "Waffles. You think Ryan can handle that many carbs?"

Her own lips twitched in response. This was familiar ground, much more like the friendship they'd developed months ago than the strange familial arrangement they'd recently fallen into. "There's only one way to find out."

They began to make breakfast together, companionable, hesitant smiles mixed with heavy silences as they each settled into their respective tasks. Alexis was whisking eggs in a bowl when she looked out the kitchen window. He heard the rhythm of the whisk slow down.

"How long has he been out there?" she asked, something heavy in her voice.

"Since before I came downstairs."

She set the bowl down on the countertop. "I never realized physical therapy was so painful."

"He's pretty serious about his recovery. He was going four days a week before…." he trailed off, watching his daughter's expression crumple. "He's actually ahead of his therapy timeline, believe it or not. Hardly has to use the cane anymore. Probably in better shape than most of the other detectives on the floor."

Alexis was blinking rapidly now, her focus back on the eggs, but he could tell her mind was miles away. "You're the only reason he's still alive," Castle said. "You know that, right? You know you saved his life that day."

He saw her shoulders curl forward the same way they always did when he brought up anything relating to Dimitri, or Pi, or her own actions. "How are the waffles coming?" she asked, her voice more breakable than he'd ever heard it.

He glanced to the waffle iron, which was still heating up, the bowl of batter set next to it, then back at her. "You're in for a treat."

She nodded. He thought he saw a few tears drop into the egg mixture, and he gently took the bowl from her hands and set it aside. "Can I tell you something you're probably not going to want to hear?"

"You're asking permission?"

"I'm trying to learn from my mistakes," he hedged.

She nodded her consent, but wouldn't look at him. Her eyes were glued to the countertop. He figured that was the best he was going to get. He took a deep breath. "Meredith never told me, you know. Not once. We had a messy breakup, which was fitting because we also had a messy relationship. She could have told me, and I don't know why she didn't. Sometimes I wonder if it was something that I said or did that made her keep this from me. Sometimes I think she was trying to punish me. I… I guess either one of them could be true. Maybe even both. I know I'm not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to forgive her for not telling me about you. Because I know beyond a shadow of doubt that no matter where I was at in my life in the last twenty-one years, if she had told me, I would have dropped everything. And I would have brought you home. I would have raised you. I would have taken care of you. And you would have been mine." His voice broke on the last word, and he blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill out.

Tears were streaming down Alexis' face in earnest now, but she didn't respond. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, and he realized that she'd never looked so small. For half a second, he got a glimpse of the little girl he'd never gotten to know. He forced himself to continue. "But I didn't know. And I wasn't there to give you a home. And I'm so, so sorry for that. I am so sorry for what you've had to live through and endure because you didn't have any other options. I'm so sorry I wasn't there to show you what it's like to have a real father. And I'm so sorry that I didn't consider how you would feel about all of this being heaped on you. I should have involved you in that decision instead of making it for you. I… I was projecting my own feelings, I guess. I didn't know my father, either. And if I could get a chance to meet him... " He shook his head. "But I want you to know that I'm proud of you. I'm proud of your tenacity, your bravery, your brilliance, the way you've made your way in the world and taught yourself so much. You're a remarkable young woman, Alexis. And no thanks to me or your mother. That's all you."

Alexis' eyes were closed now, like she couldn't take the kind words he was sending her way. Like kindness hurt more than blame or anger. Rick took a chance and stepped closer to her. He rested a hand on the side of her tearstained face. "Whatever you've done, whatever you think you deserve, I'm here to help you, okay? I'm going to do whatever I can to make things easier for you. When this is over, I want to help you move forward. Get your GED. Go to college. Whatever dream you've ever had but felt like you couldn't accomplish, I want to help you do it. But if you don't want me around when this is all over, I'll respect that, too. And no matter what you chose, I'll always going to care about you. I'm never going to shut you out, okay? You'll always be welcome in my life and in my home. Always."

Her bottom lip trembling, Alexis nodded. A tiny, broken sob eased its way out of her chest, and Rick couldn't resist the urge to wrap his arms around her. She clutched his shirt, her tears seeping through the fabric as he held her and let her cry. It was an awful echo back to the night he'd found her in the church, the night her already broken world had gone up in flames. His had, too. And maybe he was an idiot to even hope for it, Rick thought he might be able to fit the pieces back together someday. His and Alexis' and even Ryan's. Maybe together they'd shape something new.

There was an arrhythmic thumping outside, and then the back door swung open, revealing a pale and sweatslicked Kevin Ryan. He leaned heavily against the doorframe, breathing like he'd just run a marathon. "S-sorry," he panted. "Am I interrupting?"

"Yeah," Castle sighed as Alexis stepped out of his arms, wiping her face. She was at the detective's side in an instant.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look so pale."

Kevin grimaced. "I'm alright." He took a step into the kitchen and just about collapsed without the doorframe to lean against.

"Kevin," Alexis gasped. Her arms wrapped around his waist, helping him upright. She led him to the kitchen island, which he grappled onto. His entire body was shaking. "Where's your cane?" she asked.

"In the car," he said.

"I'll go get it," Rick said, already in motion.

"Don't. I don't need it." Kevin awkwardly lifted himself onto the barstool. "Just gotta catch my breath."

"Are you sure?" Alexis asked.

"Yes," his response was terse, almost biting. "I'm fine."

Rick locked eyes with Alexis, and it didn't take a detective or a shared set of genes for them to be thinking the same thing: catching his breath wasn't going to cut it. Still, Rick didn't blame his friend for his pride. It had to be demoralizing to go from being able-bodied to needing a cane almost overnight. He could understand why Kevin was pushing himself so hard and why, even now, he refused help.

He nodded at his friend, then stepped back to the forgotten batter and waffle iron. "Coffee, Ryan? Breakfast is on the way..."

* * *

Kevin knocked on the partly closed bedroom door. "Hey."

Alexis looked up from her notebook. She'd been sketching something. "Hey," she said softly, her voice hesitant.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure." She'd been sitting in the bay window, and she swung her legs over the side to allow him a space beside her.

He carefully crossed the distance to window, unable to conceal his limp, but doing his damndest to keep the pain off his face. His pride was still wounded from that morning, and he found that he couldn't meet her eyes while he limped over. He eased himself down into the spot next to her, stretching his leg out in an attempt to soothe the burning ache. He glanced at her notebook. He'd been expecting something like art and instead she'd been sketching some kind of blueprint. "What are you drawing?"

Heat rushed into her cheeks. "Um… it's a small hydroelectric generator. I don't know if it'd work or anything…. I'd need to do more research and test it out. But the ocean waves are right there." She gestured outside her window to the beach below.

"Wow," was all her could manage. Then he laughed. "Getting bored, huh?"

She shrugged, then tapped on her notebook. "It's a nice distraction."

"I bet. I'm sure we could all use a distraction..."

She took him in, then glanced down at her lap. For the millionth time, he wished he knew what she was thinking. He wondered if she was going to allow him the few remnants of his pride for just a few seconds longer or if she was blaming herself again. When the silence dragged on long enough that he realized she was waiting for him to speak, he licked his lips and said, "Seems like you and Castle are making progress."

Her face was unreadable as she nodded. "He's a good man. Probably better than I deserve." She smiled like she'd just made a joke, but Kevin didn't find her words even remotely funny. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, then let her eyes slide away from his. "He gave me a lot to think about."

"He's one the best men I've ever known," Kevin agreed, his tone firm. "You two more than deserve each other."

Her face made an odd little spasm at his words, but she didn't respond. Silence settled in again, punctuated only by the waves lapping against the beach outside.

"What did you want to talk about?" Alexis asked. Her voice was pleasant, but lacking in warmth. Kevin thought if he squinted hard enough he might be able to see the walls she'd put up around herself. He thought perhaps some of them might have come down the night before, but that was clearly not the case. She was closed off again, working through something that he didn't get to see. Going through the motions on the surface like he couldn't tell the difference. Something about the whole thing pissed Kevin off, not that it took much to make him angry these days.

"I wanted to see if you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

He frowned at her. "You're really going to use that line on me?"

"I'm not sure I understand—"

"Bullshit."

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"I heard you last night. You were screaming." He'd been pulled from his own restless half-sleep when he'd heard her screams. He'd thought she was being hurt. He'd thought Dimitri had found them. And adrenaline had pushed him to roll out of bed, grab his gun, and rush out into the hallway without any leg pain for the first time in months. When he'd seen Castle comforting Alexis, he'd realized the truth.

"I had a bad dream." She shrugged. "I'm sure I'm not the only one in this house with nightmares." She said this with a meaningful glance at him. And he knew that something in his face had given him away. As always, she was reading him like a book when he didn't even speak her language.

"This isn't about me."

"Maybe it should be."

"I'm fine," he said. "I've got everything under control."

Her lips twisted. "No, Kev, you don't. And that's the problem, isn't it? That's why you won't let anyone bring your cane in the house, and that's why you're here now trying to browbeat me into… I'm still not sure what."

"I'm not browbeating anyone. Why are you pushing me away? I thought we'd actually made some progress."

"Newsflash, you're not in charge here. And shitty things just happen sometimes. Your leg isn't going to heal any faster, no matter how much you punish your body. We're stuck hiding out here until Dimitri is either arrested or he finds us. And forgive me, but I'm not exactly in a sharing mood when you're glowering at me because your inner control freak is trying to micromanage my feelings."

He stood up, leaning hard on one leg. He wasn't sure which argument to fight first, but then her face softened. "Do you want to talk about getting shot?" she asked.

His frenzied thoughts came to an abrupt halt. "What about it?"

Her eyes took on a pained look. "The last time I saw you face to face, you were bleeding out in a bathtub. And now you're here…" she trailed off.

He stared at her for a moment, wondering anew how she could see through him so easily.

"Have you talked to anyone about it yet?" she asked.

"I…" he shook his head. "My partners… and Castle. And my sister. They know what happened. How everything went sideways. They've been my support through all this."

She nodded. "I'm glad you have people you can count on. If… if you're having a hard time, I bet Rick would want to listen. You could talk to me, too."

"Do you want me to tell you about it?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I want to know what you went through."

A smile tugged at his lips. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

There was that shadow of a smile again. "That's fair." She sighed and leaned back against the cushions. "Detective Beckett wants me to give a statement. Rick told me while you were in the shower."

He sat back down. "Are you going to give it?"

She nodded. "If it's the best chance we have to bring down Dimitri, then I owe it to everyone to at least try." She lifted her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. "I should have done it a long time ago. Maybe if I had listened when you were asking me to, we wouldn't be in this situation right now."

"Maybe," he hedged. "I'm glad you're ready to share it."

"You're not going to like what you hear, Kevin."

"I know."

"Knowing the truth… it might change everything." She met his eyes. "Rick might not want me around anymore. You might… change your mind about me."

He sighed. As much as he wanted to say that nothing would change for him, that he'd always be on her side, Kevin knew firsthand how truth had a way of tearing people apart. "Maybe," he said again. "But it might change everything for the better, too."

She nodded, her gaze somewhere far away. He took her hand.

"Tell me something real?" he asked.

Her eyes landed on him, and he saw her hesitate, saw in the flash of a second how she deliberated keeping him at arm's length or opening up to him in this small way. She licked her lips, then looked down at their entwined fingers. "I kept tabs on you when I was with Dimitri. To make sure that he kept up his end of the deal. I hacked traffic cams. You were never far from my mind." She took a breath. "And seeing you alive on those cameras, even with your limp, even though you looked pale and sad and lost... it was the closest I ever got to happiness. Because you were still alive."

He rested her forehead against hers. She wasn't crying, even though her eyes were distant, her mind was working through something he couldn't see and didn't fully understand. He gently gripped her chin and turned her face to his. His lips ghosted over her cheek and he took her hand and pressed it against his chest, over his beating heart. "Does this feel like happiness?"

"Yes," she said softly. She tilted her head to just the right angle and waited, letting him make the decision himself, not realizing he'd already made that decision months earlier. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly.

"What about that?" he asked, a teasing note in his voice.

"Happier." Then her mouth sought out his again, and there wasn't any room for talking.

* * *

Author's Note: Man, this chapter has all the feels. :) Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Hope you enjoyed the newest installment. Please review!


	21. Chapter 21

In Pieces

Chapter Twenty-One

" _Run away, baby girl. Run while you still can."_

 _Bullets ricocheted off walls at a rapid-fire pace, missing her by mere centimeters. A new wave made contact with her body, shredding into her skin like a knife through tissue paper, shattering bones, severing arteries, impaling vital organs._

 _Blood filled her mouth as she stumbled. She was dead, dying, expiring at the same rate that gravity pulled her clumsy frame toward the concrete. Blinding pain, a sickening lurch, and then—_

THUD.

Alexis wheezed on the hardwood floor of her bedroom at the Hampton's house. The breath had been knocked out of her, and she jerked for a moment, her panicked brain forgetting how to draw in a breath, forgetting that she was safe, that her body hadn't been shredded into Swiss cheese by Benjamin and his guns. He was always packing in her nightmares.

With a sharp gasp, her lungs were wrenched open, and oxygen poured in. For a long string of seconds, Alexis lay on the floor, savoring the cool air that shuddered in and out of her lungs. Tears slid down the side of her face, wetting her hairline and dripping into her ears.

"It's not real," she told herself the same mantra every night. She rested her head in her hands as her racing heart caught up with reality. The empty, sick feeling from her dreams hadn't yet faded, and in that mindset, every setback was magnified. Alexis tried to calm herself, tried to remind herself that her feelings weren't real. It was just a nightmare. The result of too many theta waves, an unreliable sleep cycle, and more than her fair share of trauma. They weren't real. Her problems had a solution. She'd be fine. She'd survive, just like she always had. "It's not real."

For once, she'd love to wake up in her father's vacation house without having tossed herself out of her bed first. Sweat glued her pajamas to her overheated skin, and she wiped moisture from her face, a mix of tears and perspiration.

Alexis arranged her covers and crawled back into her bed. The soft mattress and thousand-count sheets were almost as nice as in the bed she'd had at Dimitri's penthouse. It both felt like a lifetime had passed since she'd slept in that other bed and like it had been just yesterday. Some morning she woke up disoriented, surprised to not find herself in that pretty bedroom. Surprised to wake to the scent of the ocean coming in through the windows rather than the fresh-cut flowers that had always been at her bedside.

With a sniff, she wiped her face again. Her heart was more a pitter-patter and less a sprint to the finish line. She listened to the silence of the house, punctuated only by the sounds of the ocean outside her windows. She hadn't woken Rick or Kevin, then. She must have woken up before the screams had started. Or maybe they'd just become so used to it that they'd slept through it.

Kevin, the man she maybe loved, the man whom she'd kissed just a matter of hours earlier, and Rick, the father she'd never known about, the friend who had asked her to share her testimony with the police. The only two people in her entire world who were unabashedly on her side.

A fresh wave of tears filled her eyes as she thought of Pi. Previously her only friend, the only person she'd been able to count on. Even though months had passed since he'd died. Even though he'd been buried by now. Even though she'd managed a half-coherent goodbye to him when Rick had generously given her best friend the funeral he deserved, the send-off she could never, ever hope to afford, Pi's absence in her life was still a wound that refused to heal.

She thought of him often, missed him with every breath, and dreamed about him more often than she would have liked. Alexis would take a hundred nightmares of Benjamin brutally murdering her before she'd take another dream in which Pi had never died. Another morning when reality crashed down on her as soon as she woke. She wiped at her face again, irritation flaring in her chest. Since the night she'd killed Benjamin, tears came more easily and more frequently. Every night, and several times a day. She hated it. She hated how weak she'd become.

Tears were a useless, human failing. They didn't help anything or solve any problems. If anything, they made her more vulnerable. She'd always heard that it takes twice as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart. She didn't have time for that. She needed to pull herself together.

She wrapped her arms tight around herself, doing everything she could to hold in the panic, the knowledge that her life was falling apart, had been falling apart for a long time, despite her every effort to regain control. She'd been too close to see everything unraveling.

Alexis sat up in bed, wiping her face again, her motions jerky and irritated. Her stomach felt hollow, her lungs felt close to collapsing, and hugging her ribcage, wrapping tight around her heart was that familiar ache of grief.

"It's n-not—" she tried, her voice cracking and squeaking out into a pathetic little hiccup. A fresh breath shuddered and stumbled its way down her throat, catching against her lungs.

There was a gentle knock at her door. "Alexis?" Kevin's voice was barely a whisper through her closed bedroom door.

She clapped a hand over her mouth, willing herself to suppress the desperate, animal whine that beat against her vocal cords. How had she not heard his awkward shuffle and limp down the hallway?

Her bedroom door cracked open. "Alexis? Are you okay?"

She hadn't wanted to wake him. But now that he was standing on the threshold of her bedroom, she realized how desperately she didn't want to be alone. Without Pi, she had no one. She barely had Kevin, had Rick on more of a technicality than anything else. She was so close to alone in the world, and the thought of it had her chest spasming with a fresh round of sobs.

The bed dipped down a bit, and Kevin's arms wrapped around her. She all but crawled into his lap, hugging him like he was the last lifeline she had in the entire world. He shushed her gently, rubbing his hands up and down her back, letting her soak his shirt in her tears, letting her chest heave and soundless sobs shudder against him as the weight of her trauma crashed over her.

Kevin shushed her, and gentle fingers combed through her hair and wrapped around the back of her neck, giving those tense, knotted muscles a light squeeze.

The pressure flicked an internal switch, and with a defeated whimper, she went boneless, relaxing in his embrace as dreaded emotion tore through her psyche. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to shed no more tears for her audience of one. God, he must think her so pathetic. It was as if fate was determined to show off the worst parts of her personality. Tension coiled across her shoulders, and his grip tightened for just a moment, his thumb and fingers lightly massaging those aching muscles and vertebrae. Her body ached to melt under his touch, but her mind wouldn't allow it.

"Shh. You're okay."

It was like this sometimes. More so now that she was in a relatively safe space and had more time to think. One moment she was going through the motions and living her life, and in the next moment, she felt like she would be crushed under that ache and longing. Stages of grief were for the birds.

"H-how did you s-survive this?" she managed, hiccuping as her chest spasmed.

"What do you mean?" he asked calmly, quietly, his arms still tight around her, holding her pieces together while she fell apart.

"With y-your wife. How…" she paused, trying like hell to make it through a single sentence without sniveling her way through it. "You lost her…" Words failed her again and she took another deep, shuddering breath. Her voice was pitchy and pathetic when she spoke again. "How did you live like this? Feeling like this?"

"It was the worst part of my life," he said simply.

"Worse than now?"

"The last few months have been a close second, but they don't compare to watching Jenny die."

"I miss him," she confessed. "He-he was my friend, and I won't e-ever see him again."

He hugged her a little tighter. "I didn't get to know Pi that well, but I know how much he loved you."

"I love him, too." She wiped her face. "Does it ever get better?"

He brushed the hair out of her face. "For the most part. It doesn't stop hurting. You won't stop missing him. But you learn to live with it. You learn to hold tight to the good memories. You learn to love them and miss them and feel happy all at the same time."

Alexis couldn't imagine ever holding her loss in one hand and happiness in the other, but she hoped that Kevin was right. "Kevin?"

"Yeah?"

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been married?"

If Alexis thought about it all with 20/20 hindsight, then she should have picked up the clues along the way. She should have wondered why she was never allowed in his bedroom. She wondered if that was where he kept the evidence of his married life. She should have realized why there was makeup in the bathroom drawers and no female callers. There were so many small moments along the way, including all the sadness wrapped around him the night they'd met. So many reasons for her to pick up on the fact that he was mourning the end of a relationship. Perhaps something more.

"It's a piece of myself that I don't share lightly," he said. "I don't like the man I turn into when I think too much about that loss. And maybe it's a control thing, too. It's why I'm obsessed with health food. I didn't used to eat like that before Jenny got sick. I didn't used to have a lot of the habits I do now. I always had enough discipline, I think. But after losing her, I felt so out of control. I couldn't save her. I couldn't do a damn thing. And then there was the loss. The grief. The pain. That controlled me for a long time, too. And every little decision and habit and stringent plan helped me feel like maybe I was getting that control back. I know I've acted that way with you, too. I like feeling in control. But I guess that's only an illusion, right?

"I love her; part of me will always love her, I think. But now I'm trying allow myself to feel that loss. I guess I'm still learning to love her and miss her and give myself permission to be happy at the same time."

Alexis nodded against his chest.

"Plus," he added. "I didn't want your pity. I get enough of that from Castle and the rest. And the night we met… you didn't look at me like they did. Like I was broken or sad or some kind of wounded animal. And I liked that. I liked being known as some guy you picked up in a bar instead of a sad widower you met on his dead wife's birthday. He sighed. "I should have told you earlier. I'm sorry if I hurt you by keeping that close to my chest."

She shook her head. "As the resident secret-keeper, I don't think I have the right to be hurt about it."

He didn't disagree. His lips brushed over her cheekbone. "Tell me something real?"

"I don't pity you. And I don't think of you as a guy I picked up in a bar, either."

"How do you think of me?"

"Health nut. Clean freak. Die-hard Knicks fan. Stubborn ass." She counted on her fingers.

"How flattering," he deadpanned. He caught her hand and pressed his lips against each one of her fingertips. She faltered at that sensation. His lips brushed against her palm, and she was sure she could feel the shape of his smile. "What else?"

She felt her own lips curving upward. "Detective extraordinaire. Irish sweet-talker. . . . Man of my daydreams."

"I like the sound of that last one."

"I thought you might." She glanced up at him. "Are you happy, Kevin? Even with... " she trailed off.

"I think I'm as happy as I can be, considering our circumstances." He paused. "And considering the past few years, in this moment, I am pretty damn happy."

Her cheeks heated. In so many ways, this felt too good to be true. Kevin was here with her, close enough that she could feel him under her fingertips, close enough that his scent wrapped around her, comforting and intoxicating in equal measure. Despite the fact that she met him in a one-night stand, in this strange and wonderful second chance with him, they'd done nothing but kiss. And Alexis was surprisingly content with that arrangement—for now. But in the dim light of her bedroom, pressed against him as she was with her blood heating in her veins, she couldn't help but wonder if things were about to change. If they would cross the line into something more than a handful of kisses.

His dropped a kiss onto the crown of her head. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. "I am." She found herself yawning, and she tucked her face into the crook of his neck. "Thank you, Kevin."

"You're welcome." He didn't leave immediately, like she thought he might. "Do you… do you want me to stay?"

She lifted her head in surprise and he explained, "If your nightmares come back, maybe I can chase them away."

"I'd like that."

She invited him beneath her covers, savoring the heat of him that pressed into her body. It was just like the night they'd slept curled up together on his couch, all safety and warmth and comfort, and in almost no time at all, Alexis fell back to sleep.

She slept peacefully for the rest of the night.

* * *

Kevin slipped out of Alexis' bedroom early the next morning, intent on making coffee and breakfast. As he closed the door with a soft click, he turned and ran smack into Castle, who was heading up the stairs. The writer took one look at Kevin's bedhead and pajamas, then at his daughter's bedroom door, and his eyebrows raised in understanding.

Kevin didn't know how to respond at first. If Alexis was any other girl, there would be no conversation. Or when he did have a conversation with her father he wouldn't simultaneously be having a conversation with his best friend. He rubbed the back of his head. "We didn't, uh…" His voice was rough with sleep, and he cleared his throat. "Is this going to be a problem for you?"

Rick considered, then shook his head. "It's not my place. I don't get to make rules for this."

Kevin nodded. "Okay."

"But if you hurt her…"

"Come on, Castle. I think we both know that I'm the one voted most likely to get smashed to pieces."

Rick sighed. "You going to exercise?"

Kevin shook his head. "Breakfast."

The writer nodded, somehow looking older than he had before Kevin had run into him. "Knock when it's ready." Kevin watched as his friend returned to his bedroom.

* * *

Richard Castle had been laid to rest that morning. According to the headline news, there'd barely been enough of the writer left to fill a shoebox. His mother had arranged a gorgeous funeral. Fans, colleagues from the publishing industry, his ex-wife Gina, and half the twelfth precinct had attended the funeral. It had all but shut down traffic in Manhattan for the duration of the service.

Miles away, staring into his mug of coffee like it held answers, the real Richard Castle lived and breathed and was so, so tired.

Rick didn't know what to make of his situation, the strange and dangerous triangle that he, Ryan, and Alexis had landed in. In hiding, letting his mother and Kate take the brunt of their disappearance, of his presumed death. Rick knew he'd never be able to repay his mother for the role she'd been forced to play, the grieving, childless mother of a murdered billionaire. Surely she was being watched, if not by Dimitri's crew, then by the press.

Kate was pulling double-duty, keeping things afloat at the precinct with Ryan gone, maintaining the status quo so whoever was keeping tabs on the precinct wouldn't suspect her involvement. It was unsustainable, this holding pattern. Sooner or later, one side or the other would have to make a move.

Best-case scenario: Dimitri believed Rick was dead and thought Kevin skipped town to meet with Alexis. And in that most ideal scenario, the mobster would be content with his hacker and her last remaining weak spot disappearing in the wind.

Worst-case scenario: Dimitri had discovered the faked morgue reports and had pieced together their little hideaway plan. Worst-case scenario, Rick, Kevin, Alexis, Kate, Esposito, Lanie, Jim, and his mother all had targets on their backs.

Rick knew better than to count on the best-case scenario, but he was still foolish enough to hope that they could avoid the worst.

"Hi," Alexis said softly, interrupting Rick's quiet time with his coffee on the deck. He almost spilled it in his surprise.

"Good morning," he said, his voice a little rough with shock. "You scared me."

"Sorry. Can I sit?"

"Sure."

She took a seat in the wooden deck chair next to him. "I, um, I saw the funeral coverage. It was really nice service."

He snorted, then took a long sip from his cold mug of coffee. "It was the most morbid charade I've ever seen."

"Fair point. The older redheaded woman… Martha Rodgers. She's your mother?"

"For better or worse."

"So she's…" Alexis trailed off.

"Your grandmother."

Alexis nodded, like his answer was a confirmation she'd already seen coming. "What's she like?"

"Spirited." His lips quirked into a smile. "She's an actress. She's flighty and passionate and talented and smartass and… kind. And generous and fearless, in a lot of ways. She raised me by herself. I like to think she did a damn good job of it."

Alexis was quiet for a long string of seconds, mulling something over that he didn't yet understand. "I've been thinking about everything you told me yesterday."

"Oh. Really?"

"Yeah."

"Is there anything in particular you'd like to talk about?"

"Sort of." She shook her head. "I mean… I just wanted to let you know that I've made up my mind."

"About what?"

"I um… I think I'd like to try the whole... having a family thing." She quickly added. "If that's really what you want."

For a moment, Rick was speechless. Her silence, the distance she'd been keeping between them since she'd found out the truth, they had all weighed on him. And twenty-one years late to the fathering game, he didn't know what right he really had to ask for anything more. When he'd laid it all out for her the day before, it had been a last-ditch effort to make some kind of connection. To help her understand that the ball was in her court. He'd give her whatever she asked, whether it was a relationship or estrangement. And like all the damning variables that kept them cooped up in a vacation house together, Rick had been preparing himself for a middle-of-the-road scenario. Maybe Alexis would take him up on his offer to pay for college, but beyond that she'd live her own separate life. The worst reality would involve her leaving him behind entirely, continuing to live a life of crime and squalor. The best-case scenario… that was one he'd been too afraid to give much thought. He wanted it too dearly, and he had exactly zero control over whether or not he'd get it. It was best not to get attached to that pipe dream.

His shocked silence must have dragged on for too long, because she continued, "And I'm willing to give my testimony. Soon. Today, if Kate would like. Whatever we need to put this behind us."

Just like that, the sweet became bitter. His elation fizzled a bit, but his lips stretched into a smile. "I'll let Beckett know. She'll arrange the recording and…. Hopefully we'll be able to make some progress."

Alexis nodded. "I'd like that."

He tentatively moved closed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I'm proud of you, Alexis."

Heat rose in her cheeks, but she wouldn't look at him. "Thank you."

"And I'm on your side, no matter what," he reminded her.

Something flashed in her eyes, but she nodded. "Okay."

* * *

Alexis sat at the kitchen island, her stomach in knots. Kevin sat next to her as she watched Rick call Kate's burner phone. This was it, the moment she'd been putting off since the night she'd met Kevin. Her interrogation was about to begin. The truth about everything, all the illegal things she'd done, would come out. And with a little luck, hopefully it would be enough to save Kevin and Rick from further harm.

"Hey, Beckett, we're—" Rick was cut off. "Wait, slow down, Kate. What happened?"

Hair began to rise on the back of Alexis' neck as she watched her father's face pale. "That's not possible," he insisted. "What evidence does he have?"

Alexis look at Kevin, but he had that crease between his eyes that told her something was wrong. Her heart began to thump toward a sprint.

"I'll talk to her. I— I don't know. No, no, I don't believe this." Rather than angry, Rick looked uncertain. Defeated. "Right. We'll keep a low profile. Um, let me know. I… No, this doesn't change anything, Kate!" His voice went sharp, and he stomped into the other room. Continuing the conversation. "You're not even listening to me!"

Alexis rested her face in her hands, a dreadful certainty taking root. Dimitri had made his play. And judging by Rick's reaction, she wouldn't like it.

"Hey, don't worry," Kevin began, but he was cut off as her father stomped back into the room. His face was tense, pale with red patches across his cheeks. His eyes were bloodshot.

"What happened?" Kevin asked.

He tossed his phone onto the counter, several hundred dollars of plastic and technology smacking hard against the granite. Alexis flinched as she watched it skid into the toaster.

"Dimitri's come forward," her father answered. "He's gone straight to Beckett, and he's threatening to leak the story to the media if she doesn't comply."

"What story?" she gasped.

"He's going to tell everyone that you murdered Pi and Ryan was your accomplice."

* * *

Author's Note: Dun dun dun. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter and its various ups and downs. Please review!

For those interested, JJS4 and I have started posting chapters to a new Rylexis story called Bound. You can find the link in my profile. Here's the synopsis:

When Alexis and Kevin settle into a real relationship, their love is tested, their trust is broken, and they both learn that it's not so easy to live happily ever after. Sequel to Partnered.


	22. Chapter 22

In Pieces

Chapter 22

Kevin felt like the Earth had fallen out from beneath him. His mind scrambled to piece together Castle's words. "Dimitri said what?" he asked, sure he'd heard wrong. Desperate that he'd heard wrong.

Rick sighed, rubbing his face in agitation. "Dimitri told Kate he'd come forward to the press with proof that Alexis killed Pi and that you helped her. He's going to set us up. Tell them that all of this," he gestured around them, "this whole situation, is her fault. And he's going to come forward about Benjamin Rodgers as well."

Kevin opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again. There were no words for the sheer disbelief and panic that were scratching against his ribcage. There weren't words for the helpless anger that had his stomach twisting, his pulse racing, and his fists clenching. "But it's not true." He spared a glance at Alexis' stricken face. "And she shot Rodgers in self-defense."

"It's not about the truth," Rick answered. "If he takes that story public…"

Kevin didn't need the writer to fill in the rest. It didn't matter—it would _never_ matter—if it was the truth or not. Once the public was told to believe some salacious story or another, all the facts in the world wouldn't change that perception. Alexis would never find justice. Kevin wouldn't be able to work in law enforcement ever again. Rick… if he was ever able to show the world that he was alive and well, which would be a miracle in itself, he'd either have to face consequences of associating with Kevin and Alexis, or he'd have to publicly disavow them. Kevin thought he was going to be sick.

"It doesn't change anything," Alexis said. She stood on the opposite end of the kitchen island, her face now calm and resolved, her hands resting on the countertop.

"This changes everything," Rick argued.

"No. It doesn't. We have the truth on our side. We have facts on our side. And we have one of the best detectives in the NYPD on our side. We'll be fine." There wasn't an ounce of uncertainty in her voice, nothing but firm, unwavering determination. "We continue as planned. Tomorrow morning I'll send my testimony to Detective Beckett."

"And after that?" Kevin pressed.

"After that, we trust that truth and the law will be on our side."

Kevin blinked, then shook his head. She was being almost maddeningly reasonable, but the words coming out of her mouth didn't make any sense. He shook his head, ready to argue, but she turned away from them, heading to the fridge. "I can't talk about this until I eat something. Are you two hungry? I'll cook…"

* * *

After dinner had been cooked, and their dished had been washed and put away, and midnight was creeping closer, Kevin found Alexis out on the beach.

Rick and Kevin had called Kate after dinner, talking logistics and strategies. Over and over Kate was assuring him to stay put, to not make himself a target.

"I can't not get involved with this, Kate. She's my daughter and he's trying to set her up," Castle had insisted. Kate's tone turned soothing and conciliatory, and Kevin took that as his cue to go find Alexis. His friend and his partner deserved a moment of privacy.

Alexis was standing barefoot on the beach with her pant legs rolled up. All night through dinner, she'd been cheerful, optimistic, trying to keep them focused on what they could control rather than the panic that threatened to consume them. And it was during dinner that Kevin was able to put his finger on exactly what felt so wrong about all of that: Alexis wasn't an optimist. She didn't have an ounce of trust for the justice system. She knew Dimitri better than any of them, and she had to have known how dangerous this play of his could really be. Which meant that it was all a front and she was just as afraid as him.

"Hey," he said, coming to stand next to her. His shoulder nudged hers.

"Hey."

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fine," she said shortly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Nervous, but… I've got to trust—"

"You don't have to lie to me."

He expected her to refute his claim. She didn't. And so he continued," I think I've finally figured out what's going on in that brain of yours."

"Oh, really?"

"You're scared. You're just as scared as the rest of us."

"You're right. I just…." she paused, then took his hand. "I just want you to know, whatever happens. I—"

Kevin kissed her. "I'm not saying goodbye to you. Because we're going to fight this together. And when the real truth comes out, we'll fight for it together. We're in this together, and I'm not leaving you to face this on your own. We'll figure it out, okay?"

She nodded. "Can I use your phone? I still want to record my testimony."

"Right now?"

"Yes. Please?"

He pulled it from his pocket and gave it to her. "Do you want some privacy or—"

"I'd like you to stay. I want you to know the whole truth before anyone else does."

"Are you sure—"

"You waited until I was ready. Now I'm ready."

"I'll stay."

She took his hand, pulling him to her bedroom and closing the door behind them.

They sat on the cushion in the bay window, and Alexis grabbed the collar of his shirt and kissed him. He responded immediately, winding his fingers through her hair and kissing her back till they were both breathless.

"What's that for?" he asked when she finally broke away from him.

"Just in case you don't want to kiss me again after you learn the whole truth." Her voice was teasing, but the ring of anxiety couldn't be more obvious.

"We're in this together," he reminded her.

"I hope you're right." She turned on the recording function. "How does this work?"

"First, state your name for the record."

"Alexis Harper Castle."

"And what do you have to share, Alexis?"

She bit her lip. "I know who killed Gregor Ivanova and Pi—Peter Crespo," she corrected herself. "I know who shot Detective Ryan, where you can find the body of Officer Morgan, and who set the bomb in Richard Castle's building." She took a deep breath. "I have a long list of Dimitri Abramovich's contacts, customers, and dealers. I know the names of every shell company and every sort of thing those companies purchase, from real estate to human beings. I also know who's responsible for the deaths of his parents, brothers, and a man named Alexei."

"And how did you learn all of this?"

"Because for several months, I worked for him. I stole money, and I compiled profiles and I helped him strategize every move. I was his greatest asset and his right hand." She paused. "I also have information about the disappearance of Benjamin Rodgers."

Kevin's gaze narrowed on her, on the haunted look in her eyes. And he pressed pause on the recording. "You don't have to talk about that."

"Yes, I do." She pressed play.

"Why don't you start from the beginning?"

So she did.

She told him about getting the call from Pi, about meeting with Ivanova and making a deal for her friend's life. She told him about the months she'd spent, gathering intel on Dimitri while Pi got sober. Long days of footwork and research on an empty stomach, only to come home to their shoebox apartment to find Pi in withdrawals, or barely staying employed at his part-time dishwasher job.

She told him about Dimitri and his goons finding her after Ivanova was murdered, those weeks after she'd spent the night with Kevin, but before she'd shown up on his doorstep. She'd slept on park benches, dug through restaurant garbage bins for food, hopped in and out of homeless shelters, never staying in the same place long. It wasn't until she'd attempted to go back to her apartment for a change of clothes that they'd almost caught her, and she'd been so desperate to get away, she hadn't even noticed her hoodie and shoulder snagging as she climbed through a broken fence. It took days for her cut to get infected, a week before she knew she had to find help if she hoped to survive.

Kevin was relieved all over again that she'd come to him. That he'd been able to help her.

Alexis told Kevin what happened after Morgan had taken him out of the apartment the day he'd been shot. About Dimitri murdering Pi right in front of her. About how he'd taken care of her after, in his strange and cruel way, about the people he'd planted in Kevin's life and the threat he'd used to compel her to erase her own records.

She told him about stealing money, creating profiles on criminals, toasting to Dimitri's empire in fine gowns and diamond necklaces with some of the most notorious arms dealers in the world. She told him about the string of dead bodies left behind, the way Dimitri used her to read the men and predict threats, pick who was going to die. She told him how she'd been helping the king build his kingdom and skimming off the top along the way. She told him about the money she'd stashed, the copies of conversations she'd recorded on her phone and kept on a database. She had enough evidence to put him away for a long, long time.

"Why didn't you come forward earlier?" he asked, knowing that every figure in law enforcement would be wondering the same thing, and would hold it against her that she hadn't.

"You weren't safe yet," she explained. "Turning him in would have put you directly in his line of fire. Again. And that can't happen." She looked both desperate and haunted as she said this.

Then, her expression darkening, she told him about the night things began to go sideways. When Rick had showed up at one of Dimitri's hotels and the way Dimitri had punished her for lying. That a rival leader had tried to murder Dimitri and assault her. She glossed over the details, only adding, "Dimitri saved me and killed him. I was so relieved." She showed him the scar on her arm from the man's gun. Kevin's stomach twisted, and fury beat just behind his rib cage.

She told him what Dimitri had confessed to her in the private hospital, and how he'd taught her to use a gun. How he'd woken her up in the dead of night, how she'd seen the news coverage on the explosion in Rick's building and how upset she'd been.

Then, her hands shaking, her voice barely concealing her hysteria, she told him about finding Benjamin at the underpass, about Dimitri pressing the gun into her hand and then giving the man a knife when she refused to kill him. She showed him the scars on her arms and her shoulder. "He was on top of me. And his knife was raised. He was going to kill me, and… and I just reacted. I don't even remember pulling the trigger. I don't remember deciding to murder him. But I did. And there was so much blood. Everywhere. On my clothes, in my mouth. And then Dimitri, he tried to comfort me. Tried to tell me it was going to be okay, now that I'd done this terrible thing. Like I was free or something. And I knew then that he would never stop until I was just like him. I shot him, too, three times. And then I ran… and you know the rest.

"And now you know everything."

He ended the recording, then stared down at his hands. It was a lot to take in: the crimes she'd committed, the deaths she'd been an accomplice to, the hard choices she'd made to survive and to protect the people she loved. He paused on that. Loved. She'd told him she could have loved him. And after hearing her side of the story, he couldn't doubt the lengths she'd go to protect him.

He licked his lips. "Tell me something real?"

"I just did." Her eyes were wide, and her fingers clenched into fists.

"Tell me something else, then."

"What do you want to know?"

"If you could go back and change things, would you?"

"Would you want me to?" she asked.

Kevin swallowed. "Yes." He didn't know where to draw the line with Alexis. He'd never known. And that was the problem, wasn't it? She'd done terrible things, and she'd done them all for Pi. For Rick. For him. He felt grateful and responsible, protective and regretful. He'd never asked her to endanger her future for him. He'd never wanted that.

She met his gaze, something steely in her eyes. "I'd like to change a lot of things. But I wouldn't change my decisions to protect the people I love."

Her words rang true, but his stomach still twisted. As long as she was willing to give the world on a platter for the people she loved, she would be vulnerable to people like Dimitri. And Kevin couldn't accept that.

"That wasn't the story you wanted to hear, was it?" She tried to smile, but it looked paper-thin.

"I'm glad you told me."

"Are you?"

"I am."

"Then why do you look like I just kicked your puppy?"

He sighed. "I never wanted this for you."

The clever woman she was, she pieced together his hesitation in about a second. "You wish I'd left you in that bathtub to die?"

"Yeah, a little."

She stood up, her lips twisting, her eyes wide in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"I'll never be able to tell you how grateful I am—"

"I saved your life!"

"And maybe next time you should save your own."

She flinched. "This was too much for you, wasn't it? Now that you know the whole truth, you've changed your mind."

"That's not it."

"Please enlighten me then."

"Where will you finally draw the line?"

She blinked at him, and he knew by the heat spreading over her cheekbones that she was angry. "What are you talking about?"

"Would you kill someone if it meant protecting me? Protecting Castle?"

She took a half-step back. "I…. Why are you asking—"

"Answer the question, Alexis." His tone was hard and demanding, just barely concealing his own frustration.

"I don't want to kill anyone!"

He stood and stepped closer to her, not allowing her to physically escape from him. "That's not what I asked you."

"What is it that you want to hear, Kevin?"

"What do I want to hear?" he laughed, but there was no humor their situation. "I want to hear that you're done sacrificing yourself, Alexis. I want you to tell me that you're not going to commit more crimes, no matter whose life is on the line. For once, I'd like to see you valuing your own best interests over everyone else."

"I saved your life," she said again.

"And if I had known then what I know now, I wouldn't have let you make that choice."

She shook her head. "I couldn't have just left you there to die!"

"Promise me you won't do that again." His hands closed around her arms. "Promise me that if push comes to shove, you will not offer yourself up to save me, or Castle, or anyone else.

"No."

"Alexis—"

"I said no!" she snapped, jerking out of his grip. "You both matter to me, and as long as I can do something to protect you two, I will."

"And what if we want to protect you?" He reached for her again, but she shrugged him off. "What if we want more for you than this? Alexis, do you have any idea how much trouble you're in already? I want you to have a shot at a real life, and if you keep making deals with men like Dimitri, you're never gonna have that."

With a sigh, Alexis's expression softened. "That's what this is about. My future."

Kevin took the chance to close the space between them again. He took her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. "I'm worried about you."

"Don't be."

"But—"

She held a finger to his lips. "I've made my bed, Kevin, and whatever comes next… I'll deal with it, okay? It's not your responsibility to fix this."

He leaned into her, threading his fingers around her waist. "When you were gone, I told myself that if I ever got you back we would have a chance to try this for real. Go on a date. Spend an entire day together without secrets and threats. But…" He couldn't bring himself to continue, to confess his fear that it was already too late for them, for her. "I don't want to lose you again."

She touched his chest. "You have me now."

Her lips pressed against his, and he kissed her back with all the desperation of a drowning man taking his last breath. His fingers twined in her hair as he walked them backwards till the back of Alexis' legs made contact with her bed. Still he kissed her, devoured her, lifted her into his arms only to press her body into the mattress. She pulled him down with her, never breaking contact.

"Is this okay?" he asked when he could finally bring himself to break away from her mouth.

"Yes," she breathed, tugging his shirt over his head and pressing a line of kisses down his neck. Kevin groaned as a jolt of pain shot up his leg from all the strain he was putting on his injury. He hissed, then eased himself off of her and lay on his back next to her.

"Are you alright?"

"My leg." He blew out a breath, then reached for her hand. "We might have to be creative about this."

She grinned at him, her lips swollen. "Sounds like fun."

"Glad you think so, because I'm not done with you yet."

* * *

It was all over.

Alexis knew it the moment Rick had told her what Dimitri was planning. All of the puzzle pieces had clicked into place. She knew Dimitri like her own dark shadow, but he knew her, too. Maybe he knew her better than she knew herself. He had to have figured out who Rick was to her. Otherwise he wouldn't have attempted such a high-profile murder. Of course Dimitri knew. Of course he'd somehow figured out the one puzzle she'd never quite been able to parse.

Rick had been targeted because of her. Alexis had known that the moment she'd seen the news about the explosion at the writer's home. But that wasn't the whole story. Rick had been targeted because he was her father, and, as much as Alexis hated Dimitri, he knew her inside and out. He knew how to play her, how to use her, how build her up and break her down and twist her into his brilliant, lethal little doll.

He knew her darkest secrets; he knew her deepest insecurities and the secret desires she'd never even told Pi. He knew what it would mean to Alexis to have a family, a chance at the love and belonging she'd always wanted but had never experienced. He'd tried to offer her some sick version of that when she'd been working for him. But he had to have known that whatever dark, twisted idea of family he'd been trying to create with her, it would pale in comparison to the real thing. A real, living, breathing family. And that was why he'd tried to take it away. And he wasn't going to stop. The fact that he'd gone to Beckett with this threat was concerning. Did he know Rick was alive? Or did he simply assume that Beckett would pass messages along to Alexis through Kevin? She didn't know how much Dimitri knew, and history had proven that never ended well for anyone involved.

Alexis curled her legs up to her chest, staring at the moonlit profile of the detective sharing her bed. This didn't change anything. It didn't change her past, her present, or even her sorry excuse for a future. It didn't change the fact that Dimitri had to be furious. Beyond reasoning. And when he'd healed from what Alexis had done to him, she had no doubt that he'd burn down everything and everyone in his path to find her. And he would find her. She had no doubt about that, either.

This was beyond family drama. Beyond the loss of her cherished friend, the destruction of those last remnants of her innocence. Beyond the mess she'd created for herself and the bystanders she'd pulled in along the way.

She was a ticking time bomb, that much was evidenced by the string of corpses that she'd left in her wake. Sooner or later, Rick, Kevin, Jim… everyone who had ever tried to help her would get caught in the firefight. This battle of wills between Alexis and the ruthless mobster. After what she'd done to him, Dimitri wouldn't allow her any more connections, any more bargains. He'd take and kill and ruin until all he was all she had left. Maybe he'd kill her then, too. But Alexis had a feeling she wouldn't be so lucky.

The Russian had played his final card, and she'd come up the loser. Not because she was afraid of what would happen to her if his "truth" was made public, but because she couldn't let Kevin and Rick take the fall for it, either. She'd made a mess trying to protect Pi, trying to protect Kevin, and now it was time for her to clean it up, and she wouldn't go quietly. Because Dimitri had been successful in his quest. He _had_ turned her into a murderer, a criminal. She wasn't the same person she'd been when she'd bargained for Kevin's life. Alexis wasn't a sad orphan. And she wasn't some upper class New York debutante. She no longer held any kind of delusion about even the most mediocre of futures, about a life that wasn't steeped in darkness. He'd taken her broken, fearful pieces, refined them with her anger, her heartache, and twisted them into something darker, stronger. Something equals parts unbreakable and unredeemable.

Alexis touched Kevin's cheek, then leaned down and kissed him. One last time. "Forgive me."

Alexis dressed quickly, the choreography of the moment painfully familiar. But this would be the last time she'd have to leave him, because she knew she wasn't coming back. She carried her shoes in one hand as she stepped softly down the stairs. Kevin was asleep in her bed, and Rick was passed out on the couch. She carefully pocketed Kevin's car keys. She still had his cell phone from her earlier confession. Rick's keys and cell phone had been tossed out on the beach. It would take some time before they'd catch up with her.

The sound of the waves covered up the rumble of the engine as she eased the car out of the driveway and onto the road back to Manhattan. On the way, she added a new recording to Kevin's cell phone, the directions to her remote files, all the evidence she'd collected on Dimitri through the last few months, as well as the password to her laptop, where her initial evidence had been kept as well. It'd no doubt take Detective Beckett some time to confirm the evidence, but the files along with Alexis' recorded confession were enough to set a noose around Dimitri's neck. Sooner or later, Kate would be able to pull it tight.

As Alexis pulled up to a familiar hotel, she attached the audio file, her complete confession, pressed send. Once it had been delivered, she got out of the car and dropped the cell phone into a garbage can.

The valet rushed out from his station, "Hey, lady, you can't park here."

She ignored him, continuing her way to the concierge desk. Her ratty jeans and big box store t-shirt contrasted with the gold fixtures and marble countertops of the lobby, but she didn't shy away from the concierge's judgmental gaze. "Dimitri Abramovich is expecting me."

She scoffed, as if she was doubting Alexis' words very much. "And you are?"

Alexis gave her name, and it didn't matter that it was three a.m. and that she looked like a beach rat stranded in the middle of a a five-star hotel. "Someone will be down to assist you," the concierge said when she got off the phone, a frown pinching her mouth.

Some twenty minutes later, a bodyguard appeared to escort her up to the penthouse. She passed through the threshold into his domain, following her guide into Dimitri's study. The Russian looked pale and drawn, even in the fine suit. On his shoulder, Alexis saw the outline of bandages beneath the expensive fabric, and she wondered how well he was recovering from what she'd done to him. His eyes shone with dark intention. "What a pleasant surprise."

Alexis didn't smile. As far as she knew, the only time she'd ever surprised him was the night she'd shot him. She licked her lips. "You win."

"I always do." His words weren't an arrogant declaration; they were a promise. "Welcome home."


End file.
